11    THE    // 

SlVALIANTSfi 
OF 


A  HALLIE  A 


Mary  J.  L.  McDonald 


ft  613 
v 


on 


THE  VALIANTS 

OF  VIRGINIA 


By  HALLIE  ERMINIE  RIVES 

(MRS.  POST  WHEELER) 


Author  of  "The  Kingdom  of  Slender  Swords,' 
"Satan  Sanderson,"  etc. 


WITH  FOUR  ILLUSTRATIONS  IN  COLOR 
BY  ANDRE  CASTAIGNE 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT  1912 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANT 


.- 
/,  -w*s-'--  ^ 


TO 

THE  REAL  JOHN 


984454 


"Molly,  Molly  Bright! 
Can  I  get  there  by  candle-light  ?  " 

"Yes,  if  your  legs  are  long  enough. ** 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I  THE  CRASH          .... 

II  VANITY  VALIANT 

III  THE  NEVER-NEVER  LAND 

IV  THE  TURN  OF  THE  PAGE 

V  THE  LETTER          .... 

VI  A  VALIANT  OF  VIRGINIA 

VII  ON  THE  RED  ROAD 

VIII  MAD  ANTHONY     .... 

IX  UNCLE  JEFFERSON 

X  WHAT  HAPPENED  THIRTY  YEARS  AGO 

XI  DAMORY  COURT     .... 

XII  THE  CASE  OF  MOROCCO  LEATHER    . 

XIII  THE  HUNT  .... 

XIV  SANCTUARY  

XV  MRS.  POLY  GIFFORD  PAYS  A  CALL 

XVI  THE  ECHO    ..... 

XVII  THE  TRESPASSER 

XVIII  JOHN  VALIANT  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY 

XIX  UNDER  THE  HEMLOCKS 

XX  ON  THE  EDGE  OF  THE  WORLD 

XXI  AFTER  THE  STORM 

XXII  THE  ANNIVERSARY 

XXIII  UNCLE  JEFFERSON'S  STORY 

XXIV  IN  DEVIL-JOHN'S  DAY 

XXV  JOHN  VALIANT  ASKS  A  QUESTION 

XXVI  THE  CALL  OF  THE  ROSES 

XXVII  BEYOND  THE  BOX-HEDGE 

XXVIII  NIGHT 

XXIX  AT  THE  DOME 


1 

12 

21 

29 

36 

44 

49 

59 

71 

80 

90 

102 

109 

119 

124 

139 

142 

152 

163 

173 

179 

188 

197 

203 

219 

223 

230 

238 

244 


CONTENTS— Continued 


XXX 

XXXI 

XXXII 

XXXIII 

XXXIV 

XXXV 

XXXVI 

XXXVII 

XXXVIII 

XXXIX 

XL 

XLI 

XLII 

XLIII 

XLIV 

XLV 

XLVI 

XLVII 

XLVIII 


PAGO 

THE  GARDENERS 255 

TOURNAMENT  DAY        .        .  .        .    267 

A  VIRGINIAN  RUNNYMEDE  ....  275 
THE  KNIGHT  OF  THE  CRIMSON  ROSE  .  .  289 
KATHARINE  DECIDES  .  .  .  '  .  .300 
"WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER'  .  309 
BY  THE  SUN-DIAL  .  .  .  .  .317 

THE  DOCTOR  SPEAKS 328 

THE  AMBUSH 334 

WHAT  THE  CAPE  JESSAMINES  KNEW     .         .     340 

THE  AWAKENING 346 

THE  COMING  OF  GREEF  KING         .         .         .     359 

IN  THE  RAIN 369 

THE  EVENING  OF  AN  OLD  SCORE  .  .  .  378 
THE  MAJOR  BREAKS  SILENCE  .  .  .  386 

RENUNCIATION 398 

THE  VOICE  FROM  THE  PAST  .  408 

WHEN  THE  CLOCK  STRUCK  .  .  .  .415 
THE  SONG  OF  THE  NIGHTINGALE  427 


THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 


THE  VALIANTS  OF 
VIRGINIA 


CHAPTER  I 

THE    CRASH 

II TRAILED  I"  ejaculated  John  Valiant  blankly, 
J/    and  the  hat  he  held  dropped  to  the  claret- 
colored  rug  like  a  huge  white  splotch  of  sudden 
fright.     "  The  Corporation  —  failed !  " 

The  young  man  was  the  glass  of  fashion,  from  the 
silken  ribbon  on  the  spotless  Panama  to  his  pearl- 
gray  gaiters,  and  well  favored  —  a  lithe  stalwart 
figure,  with  wide-set  hazel  eyes  and  strong  brown 
hair  waving  back  from  a  candid  forehead.  The 
soft  straw,  however,  had  been  wrung  to  a  wisp  be- 
tween clutching  fingers  and  the  face  was  glazed  in 
a  kind  of  horrified  and  assiduous  surprise,  as  if  the 
rosy  peach  of  life,  bitten,  had  suddenly  revealed  it- 
self an  unripe  persimmon.  The  very  words  them- 
selves came  with  a  galvanic  twitch  and  a  stagger 
that  conveyed  a  sense  at  once  of  shock  and  of  pro- 
test Even  the  white  bulldog  stretched  on  the 

I 


2          THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

floor,  nose  between  paws  and  one  restless  eye  on  his 
master  in  a  troubled  wonder  that  any  one  should 
prefer  to  forsake  the  ecstatic  sunshine  of  the  street, 
with  its  thousand  fascinating  scents  and  cross-trails, 
for  a  stuffy  business  office,  lifted  his  wrinkling  pink 
nose  and  snuffled  with  acute  and  hopeful  inquiry. 

Never  had  John  Valiant's  innocuous  and  butter- 
fly existence  known  a  surprise  more  startling.  He 
had  swung  into  the  room  with  all  the  nonchalant 
habits,  the  ingrained  certitude  of  the  man  born  with 
achievement  ready-made  in  his  hands.  And  a 
single  curt  statement  —  like  the  ruthless  blades  of  a 
pair  of  shears  —  had  snipped  across  the  one  splendid 
scarlet  thread  in  the  woof  that  constituted  life  as  he 
knew  it.  He  had  knotted  his  lavender  scarf  that 
morning  a  vice-president  of  the  Valiant  Corpora- 
tion—  one  of  the  greatest  and  most  successful  of 
modern-day  organizations ;  he  sat  now  in  the  fading 
afternoon  trying  to  realize  that  the  huge  fabric, 
without  warning,  had  toppled  to  its  fall. 

With  every  nerve  of  his  six  feet  of  manhood 
in  rebellion,  he  rose  and  strode  to  the  half -opened 
window,  through  which  sifted  the  smell  of  growing 
things  —  for  the  great  building  fronted  the  square 
—  and  the  soft  alluring  moistness  of  early  spring. 
"  Failed ! "  he  repeated  helplessly,  and  the  echo 
seemed  to  go  flittering  about  the  substantial  walls 
like  a  derisive  India-rubber  bat  on  a  spree. 

The  bulldog  sat  up,  thumping  the  rug  with  a 


THE  CRASH  3 

vibrant  tail.  There  was  some  mistake,  surely ;  one 
went  out  by  the  door,  not  by  the  window!  He 
rose,  picked  up  the  Panama  in  his  mouth,  and  pad- 
ding across  the  rug,  poked  it  tentatively  into  his 
master's  hand.  But  no,  the  hand  made  no  response. 
Clearly  they  were  not  to  go  out,  and  he  dropped  it 
and  went  puzzledly  back  and  lay  down  with  pricked 
ears,  while  his  master  stared  out  into  the  foliaged 
day. 

How  solid  and  changeless  it  had  always  seemed 
—  that  great  business  fabric  woven  by  the  father 
he  could  so  dimly  remember!  His  own  invested 
fortune  had  been  derived  from  the  great  corporation 
the  elder  Valiant  had  founded  and  controlled  until 
his  death.  With  almost  unprecedented  earnings, 
it  had  stood  as  a  very  Gibraltar  of  finance,  a  type 
and  sign  of  brilliant  organization.  Now,  on  the 
heels  of  a  trust's  dissolution  which  would  be  a 
nine-days'  wonder,  the  vast  structure  had  crumpled 
up  like  a  cardboard.  The  rains  had  descended  and 
the  floods  had  come,  and  it  had  fallen ! 

The  man  at  the  desk  had  wheeled  in  his  revolv- 
ing chair  and  was  looking  at  the  trim  athletic  back 
blotting  the  daylight,  with  a  smile  that  was  little 
short  of  a  covert  sneer.  He  was  one  of  the  local 
managers  of  the  Corporation  whose  ruin  was  to  be 
that  day's  sensation,  a  colorless  man  who  had  ac- 
quired middle  age  with  his  first  long  trousers  and 
had  been  dedicated  to  the  commercial  treadmill  be- 


4          THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

fore  he  had  bought  a  safety-razor.  He  despised  all 
loiterers  along  the  primrose  paths,  and  John  Valiant 
was  but  a  decorative  figurehead. 

The  bulldog  lifted  his  head.  The  ghost  of  a 
furred  throaty  growl  rumbled  in  the  silence,  and 
the  man  at  the  desk  shrank  a  little,  as  the  hair 
rippled  up  on  the  thick  neck  and  the  faithful  red- 
rimmed  eyes  opened  a  shade  wider.  But  John 
Valiant  did  not  turn.  He  was  bitterly  absorbed 
with  his  own  thoughts. 

Till  this  moment  he  had  never  really  known  how 
proud  he  had  always  been  of  the  Corporation,  of 
the  fact  that  he  was  its  founder's  son.  His  elec- 
tion to  high  office  in  the  small  coterie  that  controlled 
its  destinies  he  had  known  very  well  to  be  but  the 
modern  concrete  expression  of  his  individual  hold- 
ings, but  it  had  nevertheless  deeply  pleased  him. 
The  fleeting  sense  of  power,  the  intimate  touching 
of  wide  issues  in  a  city  of  Big  Things  had  flat- 
tered him;  for  a  while  he  had  dreamed  of  playing  a 
great  part,  of  pushing  the  activities  of  the  Cor- 
poration into  new  territory,  invading  foreign  soil. 
He  might  have  done  much,  for  he  had  begun  with 
good  equipment.  He  had  read  law,  had  even  been 
admitted  to  the  bar.  But  to  what  had  it  come  ?  A 
gradual  slipping  back  into  the  rut  of  careless  amuse- 
ment, the  tacit  assumption  of  his  prerogatives  by 
other  waiting  hands.  The  huge  wheels  had  con- 
tinued to  turn,  smoothly,  inevitably,  and  he  had 


THE  CRASH  5 

drawn  his  dividends  .  .  .  and  that^was  all.  John 
Valiant  swallowed  something  that  was  very  like  a 
sob. 

As  he  stood  trying  to  plumb  the  depth  of  the 
calamity,  self -anger  began  to  stir  and  buzz  in  his 
heart  like  a  great  bee.  Like  a  tingling  X-ray  there 
went  stabbing  through  the  husk  woven  of  a  thou- 
sand inherent  habits  the  humiliating  knowledge  of 
his  own  uselessness.  In  those  profitless  seasons 
through  which  he  had  sauntered,  as  he  had  strolled 
through  his  casual  years  of  college,  he  had  given 
least  of  his  time  and  thought  to  the  concern  which 
had  absorbed  his  father's  young  manhood.  He, 
John  Valiant  —  one  of  its  vice-presidents!  waster, 
on  whose  expenditures  there  had  never  been  a  limit, 
who  had  strewn  with  the  foolish  free-handedness 
of  a  prodigal!  Idler,  with  a  reputation  in  three 
cities  as  a  leader  of  cotillions! 

"  Fool ! "  he  muttered  under  his  breath,  and  on 
the  landscape  outside  the  word  stamped  itself  on 
everything  as  though  a  thousand  little  devils  had 
suddenly  turned  themselves  into  letters  of  the  alpha- 
bet and  were  skipping  about  in  fours. 

Valiant  started  as  the  other  spoke  at  his  elbow. 
He,  too,  had  come  to  the  window  and  was  looking 
down  at  the  pavement.  "  How  quickly  some  news 
spreads !  " 

For  the  first  time  the  young  man  noted  that  the 
street  below  was  filling  with  a  desultory  crowd. 


6          THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

He  distinguished  a  knot  of  Italian  laborers  talking 
with  excited  gesticulations  —  a  smudged  plasterer, 
tools  in  hand, —  clerks,  some  hatless  and  with  thin 
alpaca  coats  —  all  peering  at  the  voiceless  front  of 
the  great  building,  and  all,  he  imagined,  with  a 
thriving  fear  in  their  faces.  As  he  watched,  a 
woman,  coarsely  dressed,  ran  across  the  street,  her 
handkerchief  pressed  to  her  eyes. 

"  The  notice  has  gone  up  on  the  door,"  said  the 
manager.  "  I  sent  word  to  the  police.  Crowds  are 
ugly  sometimes." 

Valiant  drew  a  sudden  sharp  breath.  The 
Corporation  down  in  the  mire,  with  crowds  at  its 
doors  ready  to  clamor  for  money  entrusted  to  it, 
the  aggregate  savings  of  widow  and  orphan,  the 
piteous  hoarded  sums  earned  by  labor  over  which 
pinched  sickly  faces  had  burned  the  midnight  oil! 

The  older  man  had  turned  back  to  the  desk  to 
draw  a  narrow  typewritten  slip  of  paper  from  a 
pigeonhole.  "  Here,"  he  said,  "  is  a  list  of  the 
bonds  of  the  subsidiary  companies  recorded  in  your 
name.  These  are  all,  of  course,  engulfed  in  the 
larger  failure.  You  have,  however,  your  private 
fortune.  If  you  take  my  advice,  by  the  way,"  he 
added  significantly,  "  you'll  make  sure  of  keeping 
that." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  John  Valiant  faced  him 
quickly. 

The  other  laughed  shortly.     "  '  A  word  to  the 


THE  CRASH  7 

wise/  "  he  quoted.  "  It's  very  good  living  abroad. 
There's  a  boat  leaving  to-morrow." J 

A  dull  red  sprang  into  the  younger  face.  '  You 
mean  — " 

"  Look  at  that  crowd  down  there  —  you  can  hear 
them  now.  There'll  be  a  legislative  investigation, 
of  course.  And  the  devil'll  get  the  hindmost."  He 
struck  the  desk-top  with  his  hand.  "  Have  you 
ever  seen  the  bills  for  this  furniture?  Do  you 
know  what  that  rug  under  your  feet  cost  ?  Twelve 
thousand  —  it's  an  old  Persian.  What  do  you  sup- 
pose the  papers  will  do  to  that  ?  Do  you  think  such 
things  will  seem  amusing  to  that  rabble  down 
there  ? "  His  hand  swept  toward  the  window. 
"  It's  been  going  on  for  too  many  years,  I  tell  you ! 
And  now  some  one'll  pay  the  piper.  The  lightning 
won't  strike  me  —  I'm  not  tall  enough.  You're  a 
vice-president." 

"Do  you  imagine  that  /  knew  these  things — • 
that  I  have  been  a  party  to  what  you  seem  to  be- 
lieve has  been  a  deliberate  wrecking?"  Valiant 
towered  over  him,  his  breath  coming  fast,  his  hands 
clenched  hard. 

"You?"  The  manager  laughed  again  —  an 
unpleasant  laugh  that  scraped  the  other's  quivering 
nerves  like  hot  sandpaper.  "  Oh,  lord,  no !  How 
should  you?  You've  been  too  busy  playing  polo 
and  winning  bridge  prizes.  How  many  board 
meetings  have  you  attended  this  year?  Your  vote 


8          THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

is  proxied  as  regular  as  clockwork.  But  you're 
supposed  to  know.  The  people  down  there  in  the 
street  won't  ask  questions  about  patent-leather 
pumps  and  ponies ;  they'll  want  to  hear  about  such 
things  as  rotten  irrigation  loans  in  the  Stony-River 
Valley  —  to  market  an  alkali  desert  that  is  the  per- 
sonal property  of  the  president  of  this  Corporation." 

Valiant  turned  a  blank  white  face.  "  Sedg- 
wick?" 

"  Yes.  You  know  his  principle :  '  It's  all  right  to 
be  honest,  if  you're  not  too  damn  honest.'  He 
owns  the  Stony-River  Valley  bag  and  baggage.  It 
was  a  big  gamble  and  he  lost." 

For  a  moment  there  was  absolute  silence  in  the 
room.  From  outside  came  the  rising  murmur  of 
the  crowd  and  cutting  through  it  the  shrill  cry  of  a 
newsboy  calling  an  evening1  extra.  Valiant  was 
staring  at  the  other  with  a  strange  look.  Emotions 
to  which  in  all  his  self-indulgent  life  he  had  been  a 
stranger  were  running  through  his  mind,  and  outre 
passions  had  him  by  the  throat.  Fool  and  doubly 
blind!  A  poor  pawn,  a  catspaw  raking  the  chest- 
nuts for  unscrupulous  men  whose  ignominy  he  was 
now  called  on,  perforce,  to  share!  In  hi-  pitiful 
egotism  he  had  consented  to  be  a  figurehead,  and 
he  had  been  made  a  tool.  A  red  rage  surged  over 
him.  No  one  had  ever  seen  on  JLhn  Valiant's  face 
such  a  look  as  grew  on  it  now. 

He  turned,  retrieved  the  Panama,  and  without  a 


THE  CRASH  9 

word  opened  the  door.  The  older  man  took  a  step 
toward  him  —  he  had  a  sense  of  dangerous  electric 
forces  in  the  air  —  but  the  door  closed  sharply  in 
his  face.  He  smiled  grimly.  "  Not  crooked,"  he 
said  to  himself ;  "  merely  callow.  A  well-meaning, 
manicured  young  fop  wholly  surrounded  by  men 
who  knew  what  they  wanted !  "  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders  and  went  back  to  his  chair. 

Valiant  plunged  down  in  the  elevator  to  the 
street.  Its  single  other  passenger  had  his  nose 
buried  in  a  newspaper,  and  over  the  reader's  shoul- 
der he  saw  the  double-leaded  head-line :  "  Collapse 
of  the  Valiant  Corporation !  " 

He  pushed  past  the  guarded  door,  and  threading 
the  crowd,  made  toward  the  curb,  where  the  bull- 
dog, with  a  bark  of  delight,  leaped  upon  the  seat  of 
a  burnished  car,  rumbling  and  vibrating  with  pent- 
up  power.  There  were  those  in  the  sullen  anxious 
crowd  who  knew  whose  was  that  throbbing  metal 
miracle,  the  chauffeur  spick  and  span  from  shining 
cap-visor  to  polished  brown  puttees,  and  recogniz- 
ing the  white  face  that  went  past,  pelted  it  with 
muttered  sneers.  But  he  scarcely  saw  or  heard 
them,  as  he  stepped  into  the  seat,  took  the  wheel 
from  the  chauffeur's  hand  and  threw  on  the  gear. 

He  had  afterward  little  memory  of  that  ride. 
Once  the  leaping  anger  within  him  jerked  the  throt- 
tle wide  and  the  car  responded  with  a  breakneck 
dart  through  the  startled  traffic,  till  the  sight  of  an 


io        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

infuriated  mounted  policeman,  baton  up,  brought 
him  to  himself  with  a  thud.  He  had  small  mind  to 
be  stopped  at  the  moment.  His  mouth  set  in  a 
sudden  hard  sharp  line,  and  under  it  his  hands 
gripped  the  slewing  wheel  to  a  tearing  serpentine 
rush  that  sent  the  skidding  monster  rearing  on  side 
wheels,  to  swoop  between  two  drays  in  a  hooting 
plunge  down  a  side  street.  His  tight  lips  parted 
then  in  a  ragged  laugh,  bit  off  by  the  jolt  of  the 
lurching  motor  and  the  slap  of  the  bulging  air. 

As  the  sleek  rubber  shoes  spun  noiselessly  and 
swiftly  along  the  avenue  the  myriad  lights  that 
were  beginning  to  gleam  wove  into  a  twinkling  mist. 
He  drove  mechanically  past  a  hundred  familiar 
things  and  places:  the  particular  chop-house  of 
which  he  was  an  habitue  —  the  ivied  wall  of  his 
favorite  club,  with  the  cluster  of  faces  at  the  double 
window  —  the  florist's  where  daily  he  stopped  for 
his  knot  of  Parma  violets  —  but  he  saw  nothing, 
till  the  massive  marble  fronts  of  the  upper  park  side 
ceased^  their  mad  dance  as  the  car  halted  before  a 
tall  iron-grilled  doorway  with  wide  glistening  steps, 
between  windows  strangely  shuttered  and  dark. 

He  sprang  out  and  touched  the  bell.  The  heavy 
oak  parted  slrwly ;  the  confidential  secretary  of  the 
man  he  had  co***£  to  face  stood  in  the  gloomy  door- 
way. 

"  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Sedgwick." 

"  You  can't  see  him,  Mr.  Valiant." 


THE  CRASH  n 

"  But  I  will! "  Sharp  passion  leaped  into  the 
young  voice.  "  He  must  speak  to  me." 

The  man  in  the  doorway  shook  his  head.  "  He 
won't  speak  to  anybody  any  more,"  he  said.  "  Mr, 
Sedgwick  shot  himself  two  hours  ago." 


CHAPTER  II 

VANITY  VALIANT 

witness  is  excused." 

JL  In  the  ripple  that  stirred  across  the 
court  room  at  the  examiner's  abrupt  conclusion, 
John  Valiant,  who  had  withstood  that  pitiless  hail 
of  questions,  rose,  bowed  to  him  and  slowly  crossed 
the  cleared  space  to  his  counsel.  The  chairman 
looked  severely  over  his  eye-glasses,  with  his  gavel 
lifted,  and  a  statuesque  girl,  in  the  rear  of  the  room, 
laid  her  delicately  gloved  hand  on  a  companion's 
and  smiled  slowly  without  withdrawing  her  gaze, 
and  with  the  faintest  tint  of  color  in  her  face. 

Katharine  Fargo  neither  smiled  nor  flushed  read- 
ily. Her  smile  was  an  index  of  her  whole  per- 
sonality, languid,  symmetrical,  exquisitely  perfect 
The  little  group  with  whom  she  sat  looked  some- 
what out  of  place  in  that  mixed  assemblage.  They 
had  not  gasped  at  the  tale  of  the  Corporation's  un- 
precedented earnings,  the  lavish  expenditure  for  its 
palatial  offices.  The  recital  of  the  tragic  waste,  the 
nepotism,  the  mole-like  ramifications  by  which  the 
vast  structure  had  been  undermined,  had  left 
them  rather  amusedly  and  satirically  appreciative. 

12 


VANITY  VALIANT  13 

Smartly  groomed  and  palpably  members  of  a  set 
to  whom  John  Valiant  was  a  familiar,  they  had  had 
only  friendly  nods  and  smiles  for  the  young  man  at 
whom  so  many  there  had  gazed  with  jaundiced  eyes. 
To  the  general  public  which  read  its  daily  news- 
paper perhaps  none  of  the  gilded  set  was  better 
known  than  "  Vanity  Valiant."  The  very  nick- 
name —  given  him  by  his  fellows  in  facetious  allu- 
sion to  a  flippant  newspaper  paragraph  laying  at  his 
door  the  alleged  new  fashion  of  a  masculine  vanity- 
box  —  had  taken  root  in  the  fads  and  elegancies  he 
affected.  The  new  Panhard  he  drove  was  the 
smartest  car  on  the  avenue,  and  the  collar  on  the 
white  bulldog  that  pranced  or  dozed  on  its  leather 
seat  sported  a  diamond  buckle.  To  the  space- 
writers  of  the  social  columns,  he  had  been  a  peren- 
nial inspiration.  They  had  delighted  to  herald  a 
more  or  less  bohemian  gathering,  into  which  he 
had  smuggled  this  pet,  as  a  "  dog-dinner " ;  and 
when  one  midnight,  after  a  staid  and  stodgy 
"  bridge/'  in  a  gust  of  wild  spirits  he  had,  for  a 
wager,  jumped  into  and  out  of  a  fountain  on  a 
deserted  square,  the  act,  dished  up  by  a  night- 
hawking  reporter  had,  the  following  Sunday,  in- 
spired three  metropolitan  sermons  on  "  The  Idle 
Rich."  The  patterns  of  his  waistcoats,  and  the 
splendors  of  his  latest  bachelors'  dinner  at  Sherry's 
—  with  such  items  the  public  had  been  kept  suffi- 
ciently familiar.  To  it,  he  stood  a  perfect  symbol 


14        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

of  the  eider  ease  and  insolent  display  of  inherited 
wealth.  And  the  great  majority  of  those  who  had 
found  place  in  that  roomy  chamber  to  listen  to  the 
ugly  tale  of  squandered  millions,  looked  at  him  with 
a  resentment  that  was  sharpened  by  his  apparent 
nonchalance. 

For  the  failure  of  the  concern  upon  which  a 
legislature  had  now  turned  the  search-light  of  its 
inquiry,  might  to  him  have  been  a  thing  of  trivial 
interest,  and  the  present  task  an  alien  one,  which  he 
must  against  his  will  go  through  with.  Often  his 
eyes  had  wandered  to  the  window,  through  which 
came  the  crisp  clip-trip-clop  of  the  cab  horses  on  the 
asphalt,  the  irritant  clang  of  trolleys  and  the  mon- 
strous panther  purr  of  motors.  Only  once  had  this 
seeming  indifference  been  shaken :  when  the  figures 
of  the  salary  voted  the  Corporation's  chief  officers 
had  been  sardonically  cited  —  when  in  the  tense 
quiet  a  woman  had  laughed  out  suddenly,  a  harsh 
jeering  note  quickly  repressed.  For  one  swift  sec- 
ond then  Valiant's  gaze  had  turned  to  the  rusty 
black  gown,  the  flushed  face  of  the  sleeping  child 
against  the  tawdry  fall  of  the  widow's  veil.  Then 
the  gaze  had  come  back,  and  he  was  once  more 
the  abstracted  spectator,  boredly  waiting  his  re- 
lease. 

Long  before  the  closing  session  it  had  been  clear 
that,  as  far  as  indictments  were  concerned,  the  in* 
vestigation  would  be  barren  of  result.  Of  indi- 


VANITY  VALIANT  15 

vidual  criminality,  flight  and  suicide  had  been  con- 
fession, but  more  sweeping  charges  could  not  be 
brought  home.  The  gilded  fool  had  not  brought 
himself  into  the  embarrassing  purview  of  the  law. 
This  certainty,  however,  had  served  to  goad  the 
public  and  sharpen  the  satire  of  the  newspaper  par- 
agraphist;  and  the  examiner,  who  incidentally  had 
a  reputation  of  his  own  to  guard,  knew  his  cue. 
There  were  possibilities  for  the  exercise  of  his  es- 
pecial gifts  in  a  vice-president  of  the  Corporation 
who  was  also  Vanity  Valiant,  the  decorative  idler 
of  social  fopperies  and  sumptuous  clothes. 

Valiant  took  the  chair  with  a  sensation  almost  of 
relief.  Since  that  day  when  he  had  spun  down- 
town in  his  motor  to  that  sharp  enlightenment,  his 
daily  round  had  gone  on  as  usual,  but  beneath  the 
habitual  pose,  the  worldly  mask  of  his  class,  had 
lain  a  sore  sensitiveness  that  had  cringed  painfully 
at  the  sneering  word  and  the  envenomed  paragraph. 
Always  his  mental  eye  had  seen  a  white- faced  crowd 
staring  at  a  marble  building,  a  coarsely-dressed 
woman  crossing  the  street  with  a  handkerchief 
pressed  to  her  face. 

And  mingling  with  the  sick  realization  of  his  own 
inadequacy  had  woven  panging  thoughts  of  his 
father.  The  shattered  bits  of  recollection  of  him 
that  he  had  preserved  had  formed  a  mosaic  which 
had  pictured  the  hero  of  his  boyhood.  Yet  his 
father's  name  would  now  go  down,  linked  not  to 


1 6        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

success  and  achievement,  but  to  failure,  to  chicanery, 
to  the  robbing  of  the  poor.  The  thought  had  be- 
come a  blind  ache  that  had  tortured  him.  Beneath 
the  old  characteristic  veneer  it  had  been  working  a 
strange  change.  Something  old*  had  been  dying; 
something  new  budding  under  the  careless  exterior 
of  the  man  who  now  faced  his  examiner  in  the  big 
armchair  that  May  afternoon. 

John  Valiant's  testimony,  to  those  of  his  listen- 
ers who  cherished  a  sordid  disbelief  m  the  ingenuous- 
ness of  the  man  who  counts  his  wealth  in  seven  fig- 
ures, seemed  a  pose  of  gratuitous  insolence.  It  had 
a  clarity  and  simplicity  that  was  almost  horrifying, 
He  did  not  stoop  to  gloze  his  own  monumental 
flippancy.  He  had  attended  only  one  directors' 
meeting  during  that  year.  Till  after  the  crash,  he 
had  known  little,  had  cared  less,  about  the  larger 
investments  of  the  Corporation's  capital:  he  had 
left  all  that  to  others. 

Perhaps  to  the  examiner  himself  this  blunt  direct- 
ness —  the  bitter  unshadowed  truth  that  searched 
for  no  evasions  —  had  appeared  effrontery ;  the 
contemptuous  and  cynical  frankness  of  the  young 
egoist  who  sat  secure,  his  own  millions  safe,  on  the 
ruins  of  the  enterprise  from  which  they  were  de- 
rived. The  questions,  that  had  been  bland  with 
suave  innuendo,  acquired  an  acrid  sarcasm,  a  barbed 
and  stinging  satire,  which  at  length  touched  indis- 
cretion. He  allowed  himself  a  scornful  reference 


VANITY  VALIANT  17 

to  the  elder  Valiant  as  scathing  as  jt  was  unjusti- 
fied. 

To  the  man  in  the  witness-chair  this  had  been 
like  an  electric  shock.  Something  new  and  un- 
guessed  beneath  the  husk  of  boredom,  the  indolent 
pose  of  body,  had  suddenly  looked  from  his  blazing 
eyes:  something  foreign  to  Vanity  Valiant,  the 
club  habitue,  the  spoiled  scion  of  wealth.  For  a 
brief  five  minutes  he  spoke,  in  a  fashion  that  sur- 
prised the  court  room  —  a  passionate  defense  of  his 
father,  the  principles  on  which  the  Corporation  had 
been  founded  and  its  traditional  policies:  few  sen- 
tences, but  each  hot  as  lava  and  quivering  with  feel- 
ing. Their  very  force  startled  the  reporters'  bench 
and  left  his  inquisitor  for  a  moment  silent. 

The  latter  took  refuge  in  a  sardonic  reference  to 
the  Corporation's  salary-list.  Did  the  witness  con- 
ceive, he  asked  with  effective  deliberation,  that  he 
had  rendered  services  commensurate  with  the  an- 
nual sums  paid  him?  The  witness  thought  that  he 
had,  in  fact,  received  just  about  what  those  serv- 
ices were  worth.  Would  Mr.  Valiant  be  good 
enough  to  state  the  figures  of  the  salary  he  had  been 
privileged  to  draw  as  a  vice-president? 

The  answer  fell  as  slowly  in  the  sardonic  silence. 
"  I  have  never  drawn  a  salary  as  an  officer  of  the 
Valiant  Corporation." 

Then  it  was  that  the  irritated  examiner  had 
abruptly  dismissed  the  witness.  Then  the  ripple 


18        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

had  swept  over  the  assemblage,  and  Katharine 
Fargo,  gazing,  had  smiled  that  slow  smile  in  which 
approval  struggled  with  mingled  wonder  and  ques- 
tion. 

The  jostling  crowd  flocked  out  into  the  square, 
among  them  a  fresh-faced  girl  on  the  arm  of  a 
gray-bearded  man  in  black  frock  coat  and  pictur- 
esque broad-brimmed  felt  hat.  She  turned  her  eyes 
to  his. 

"  So  that,"  she  said,  "is  John  Valiant!  I'd  al- 
most rather  have  missed  Niagara  Falls.  I  must 
write  Shirley  Dandridge  about  it  I'm  so  sorry  I 
lost  that  picture  of  him  that  I  cut  out  of  the  paper." 

"  I  reckon  he's  not  such  a  bad  lot,"  said  her 
uncle.  "  I  liked  the  way  he  spoke  of  his  father." 

He  hailed  a  cab.  "  Grand  Central  Station,"  he 
directed,  with  a  glance  at  his  watch,  "  and  be  quick 
about  it.  We've  just  time  to  make  our  train." 

"Yessir!     Dollar'n  a  half,  sir." 

The  gentleman  seated  the  girl  and  climbed  in 
himself.  "  I  know  the  legal  fare,"  he  said,  "  if  I  am 
from  Virginia.  And  if  you  try  to  beat  me  out  of 
more,  you'll  be  sorry." 

Some  hours  later,  in  an  inner  office  of  a  down- 
town sky-scraper,  the  newly-appointed  receiver  of 
the  Valiant  Corporation,  a  heavy,  thick-set  man  with 
narrow  eyes,  sat  beside  a  table  on  which  lay  a  small 


VANITY  VALIANT  19 

black  satchel  with  a  padlock  on  its  handle,  whose 
contents  —  several  bundles  of  crisp  papers  —  he 
had  been  turning  over  in  his  heavy  hands  with  a 
look  of  incredulous  amazement.  A  sheet  contain- 
ing a  mass  of  figures  and  memoranda  lay  among 
them. 

The  shock  was  still  on  his  face  when  a  knock 
came  at  the  door,  and  a  man  entered.  The  new- 
comer was  gray-haired,  slightly  stooped  and  lean- 
jo  wled,  with  a  humorous  expression  on  his  lips. 
He  glanced  in  surprise  at  the  littered  table. 

"  Fargo,"  said  the  man  at  the  desk,  "  do  you  no- 
tice anything  queer  about  me?  " 

His  friend  grinned.  "  No,  Buck,"  he  said  ju- 
dicially, "  unless  it's  that  necktie.  It  would  stop  a 
Dutch  clock." 

"  Hang  the  haberdashery !  Read  this  —  from 
young  Valiant."  He  passed  over  a  letter. 

Fargo  read.  He  looked  up.  "  Securities  aggre- 
gating three  millions !  "  he  said  in  a  hushed  voice. 
"  Why,  unless  I've  been  misinformed,  that  repre- 
sents practically  all  his  private  fortune." 

The  other  nodded.  "  Turned  over  to  the  Cor- 
poration with  his  resignation  as  a  vice-president, 
and  without  a  blessed  string  tied  to  'em !  What  do 
you  think  of  that?" 

"  Think !     It's  the  most  absurdly  idiotic  thing  I 

ever  met.     Two  weeks  ago,  before  the  investigation 

.  .  but  now,  when  it's  perfectly  certain  they  can 


20        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

bring  nothing  home  to  him — "  He  paused.  "  Of 
course  I  suppose  it'll  save  the  Corporation,  eh? 
But  it  may  be  ten  years  before  its  securities  pay 
dividends.  And  this  is  real  money.  Where  the 
devil  does  he  come  in  meanwhile  ?  " 

The  receiver  pursed  his  lips.  "  I  knew  his 
father,"  he  said.  "  He  had  the  same  crazy  quixotic 
streak." 

He  gathered  the  scattered  documents  and  locked 
them  carefully  with  the  satchel  in  a  safe.  "  Spec- 
tacular young  ass !  "  he  said  explosively. 

"  I  should  say  so !  "  agreed  Fargo.  "  Do  you 
know,  I  used  to  be  afraid  my  Katharine  had  a  lean- 
ing toward  him.  But  thank  God,  she's  a  sensible 
girl!" 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    NEVER-NEVER    LAND 

DUSK  had  fallen  that  evening"  when  John  Val- 
iant's Panhard  turned  into  a  cross-street  and 
circled  into  the  yawning  mouth  of  his  garage. 
Here,  before  he  descended,  he  wrote  a  check  on  his 
knee  with  a  slobbering  fountain-pen. 

"  Lars,"  he  said  to  the  chauffeur,  "  as  I  dare  say 
you've  heard,  things  have  not  gone  exactly  smoothly 
with  me  lately,  and  I'm  uncertain  about  my  plans. 
I've  made  arrangements  to  turn  the  car  over  to  the 
manufacturers,  and  take  back  the  old  one.  I  must 
drive  myself  hereafter.  I'm  sorry,  but  you  must 
look  for  another  place." 

The  dapper  young  Swede  touched  his  cap  grate- 
fully as  he  looked  at  the  check's  figures.  Embar- 
rassment was  burning  his  tongue.  "I  —  I've 
heard,  sir.  I'm  sure  it's  very  kind,  sir,  and  when 
you  need  another  .  .  ." 

"  Thank  you,  Lars,"  said  Valiant,  as  he  shook 
hands,  "  and  good  luck.  I'll  remember." 

Lars,  the  chauffeur,  looked  after  him.  "  Going 
to  skip  out,  he  is!  I  thought  so  when  he  brought 
that  stuff  out  of  the  safe-deposit.  Afraid  they'll  try 

21 


22        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

to  take  the  boodie  away  from  him,  I  guess.  The 
papers  seem  to  think  he's  rotten,  but  he's  been  a 
mighty  good  boss  to  me.  He's  a  dead  swell,  all 
right,  anyhow,"  he  added  pridefully,  as  he  slid  the 
car  to  its  moorings,  "  and  they'll  have  to  get  up 
early  to  catch  him  asleep!  " 

A  little  later  John  Valiant,  the  bulldog  at  his 
heels,  ascended  the  steps  of  his  club,  where  he 
lodged  —  he  had  disposed  of  his  bachelor  apart- 
ment a  fortnight  ago.  The  cavernous  seats  of  the 
lounge  were  all  occupied,  but  he  did  not  pause  as 
he  strode  through  the  hall.  He  took  the  little  pile 
of  letters  the  boy  handed  him  at  the  desk  and  went 
slowly  up  the  stairway. 

He  wandered  into  the  deserted  library  and  sat 
down,  tossing  the  letters  on  the  magazine-littered 
table.  He  had  suddenly  remembered  that  it  was 
his  twenty-fifth  birthday. 

In  the  reaction  from  the  long  strain  he  felt  phys- 
ically spent.  He  thought  of  what  he  had  done  that 
afternoon  with  a  sense  of  satisfaction.  A  reversal 
of  public  judgment,  in  his  own  case,  had  not  en- 
tered his  head.  He  knew  his  world  —  its  comfort- 
able faculty  of  forgetting,  and  the  multitude  of  sins 
that  wealth  may  cover.  To  preserve  at  whatever 
personal  cost  the  one  noble  monument  his  father's 
genius  had  reared,  and  to  right  the  wrong  that 
would  cast  its  gloomy  shadow  on  his  name  —  this 
had  been  his  only  thought.  What  he  had  done 


THE  NEVER-NEVER  LAND  23 

would  have  been  done  zio  matter  what  the  outcome 
of  the  investigation.  But  now,  he  told  himself,  no 
one  could  say  the  act  had  been  wrung  from  him. 
That,  he  fancied,  would  have  been  his  father's  way. 

Fancied  —  for  his  recollections  of  his  father 
were  vague  and  fragmentary.  They  belonged 
wholly  to  his  pinafore  years.  His  early  memories 
of  his  mother  were,  for  that  matter,  even  more  un- 
substantial. They  were  of  a  creature  of  wonderful 
dazzling  gowns,  and  more  wonderful  shining  jewels, 
who  lived  for  the  most  part  in  an  over-sea  city  as 
far  away  as  the  moon  (he  was  later  to  identify  this 
as  Paris)  and  who,  when  she  came  home  —  which 
was  not  often  —  took  him  driving  in  the  park  and 
gave  him  chocolate  macaroons.  He  had  always 
held  her  in  more  or  less  awe  and  had  breathed 
easier  when  she  had  departed.  She  had  died  in 
Rome  a  year  later  than  his  father.  He  had  been 
left  then  without  a  near  relative  in  the  world  and 
his  growing  years  had  been  an  eoic  of  nurses  and 
caretakers,  a  boys'  school  on  the  continent,  and  a 
university  course  at  home.  As  far  as  his  father 
was  concerned,  he  had  had  only  his  own  childish 
recollections. 

He  smiled  —  a  slow  smile  of  reminiscence  —  for 
there  had  come  to  him  at  that  moment  the  dearest 
of  all  those  memories  —  a  play  of  his  childhood. 

He  saw  himself  seated  on  a  low  stool,  watching 
a  funny  old  clock  with  a  moon- face,  whose  smiling 


24        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

lips  curved  up  like  military  mustachios,  and  wishing 
the  lazy  long  hands  would  hurry.  He  saw  himself 
stealing  down  a  long  corridor  to  the  door  of  a  big 
room  strewn  with  books  and  papers,  that  through 
some  baleful  and  mysterious  spell  could  not  be 
made  to  open  at  all  hours.  When  the  hands 
pointed  right,  however,  there  was  the  "  Open 
Sesame  " —  his  own  secret  knock,  two  fierce  twin 
raps,  with  one  little  lonesome  one  afterward  —  and. 
this  was  unfailing.  Safe  inside,  he  saw  himself 
standing  on  a  big,  polar-bear-skin  rug,  the  door 
tight-locked  against  all  comers,  an  expectant  baby 
figure,  with  his  little  hand  clasped  in  his  father's. 
The  white  rug  was  the  magic  entrance  to  the  Never- 
Never  Country,  known  only  to  those  two. 

He  could  hear  his  own  shrill  treble : 

"  Wishing-House,  Wishing-House,  where  are 
you?" 

Then  the  deeper  voice  (quite  unrecognizable  as 
his  father's)  answering: 

"  Here  I  am,  Master ;  here  I  am !  " 

And  instantly  the  room  vanished  and  they  were 
in  the  Never-Never  Land,  and  before  them  reared 
the  biggest  house  in  the  world,  with  a  row  of  white 
pillars  across  its  front  a  mile  high. 

Valiant  drew  a  deep  breath.  Some  magic  of  time 
and  place  was  repainting  that  dead  and  dusty  in- 
fancy in  sudden  delicate  lights  and  filmy  colors. 
What  had  been  but  blurred  under-exposures  on  the 


THE  NEVER-NEVER  LAND  25 

retina  of  his  brain  became  all  at  once  elfin  pictures, 
weird  and  specter-like  as  the  dissolving  views  of  a 
camera  obscura. 

He  and  his  father  had  lived  alone  in  Wishing- 
House.  No  one  else  had  possessed  the  secret. 
Not  his  mother.  Not  even  the  more  portentous  per- 
son whom  he  had  thought  must  own  the  vast  hotel 
in  which  they  lived  (in  such  respect  did  she  seem 
to  be  held  by  the  servants),  who  wore  crackling 
black  silk  and  a  big  bunch  of  keys  for  a  sole  orna- 
ment, and  who  had  called  him  her  "  lamb."  No, 
in  the  Never-Never  Land  there  had  been  only  his 
father  and  he! 

Yet  they  were  anything  but  lonely,  for  the  coun- 
try was  inhabited  by  good-natured  friendly  sav- 
ages, as  black  as  a  lump  of  coal,  most  of  them 
with  curly  white  hair.  These  talked  a  queer  lan- 
guage, but  of  course  his  father  and  he  could  under- 
stand them  perfectly.  These  savages  had  many 
curious  and  enthralling  customs  and  strange  cud- 
dling songs  that  made  one  sleepy,  and  all  these  his 
father  knew  by  heart.  They  lived  in  little  square 
huts  around  Wishing-House,  made  of  sticks,  and 
had  dozens  and  dozens  of  children  who  wore  no 
clothes  and  liked  to  dance  in  the  sun  and  eat  cher- 
ries. They  were  very  useful  barbarians,  too,  for 
they  chopped  the  wood  and  built  the  fires  and  made 
the  horses'  coats  shine  —  for  he  and  his  father 
would  have  scorned  to  walk,  and  went  galloping 


26        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

like  the  wind  everywhere.  The  forests  about  were 
filled  with  small  brown  cats,  tremendously  furry, 
with  long  whiskers  and  sharp,  beedy  black  eyes,  and 
sometimes  they  would  hunt  these  on  horseback ;  but 
they  never  caught  them,  because  the  cats  could  run 
just  a  little  bit  faster  than  the  horses. 

Christmas  time  at  home  was  not  so  very  excit- 
ing, but  at  Wishing-House  what  a  time  they 
had!  Then  all  the  savages  and  their  wives  and 
children  received  presents,  and  he  and  his  father 
had  a  dreadfully  scary  shivery  time  remembering 
them  all,  because  some  had  so  many  children  they 
ran  out  of  names  and  had  to  use  numbers  instead 
So  there  was  always  the  harrowing  fear  that  one 
might  inadvertently  be  left  omt,  and  sometimes  they 
couldn't  remember  the  last  one  till  the  very  final 
minute.  After  the  Christmas  turkey,  the  oldest  and 
blackest  savage  of  all  would  come  in  where  his 
father  and  he  sat  at  the  table,  with  a  pudding  as 
big  as  the  gold  chariot  in  the  circus,  and  the  pud- 
ding, by  some  magic  spell,  would  set  itself  on  fire, 
while  he  carried  it  round  the  table,  with  all  the 
other  savages  marching  after  him.  This  was  the 
most  awe-inspiring  spectacle  of  all.  Christmases  at 
other  places  were  a  long  way  apart,  but  they  came 
as  often  as  they  were  wanted  at  Wishing-House, 
which,  he  recalled,  was  very  often  indeed. 

John  Valiant  felt  an  odd  beating  of  the  heart 
and  a  tightening  of  the  throat,  for  he  saw  another 


THE  NEVER-NEVER  LAND  27 

scene,  too.  It  was  the  one  hushed*  and  horrible 
night,  after  the  spell  had  failed  and  the  door  had 
refused  to  open  for  a  long  time,  when  dread  things 
had  been  happening  that  he  could  not  understand, 
when  a  big  man  with  gold  eye-glasses,  who  smelled 
of  some  curious  sickish-sweet  perfume,  came  and 
took  him  by  the  hand  and  led  him  into  a  room  where 
his  father  lay  in  bed,  very  gray  and  quiet. 

The  white  hand  on  the  coverlet  had  beckoned  to 
him  and  he  had  gone  close  up  to  the  bed,  standing 
very  straight,  his  heart  beating  fast  and  hard. 

"  John !  "  the  word  had  been  almost  a  whisper, 
very  tense  and  anxious,  very  distinct.  "  John, 
you're  a  little  boy,  and  father  is  going  away." 

"  To  —  to  Wishing-House  ?  " 

The  gray  lips  had  smiled  then,  ever  so  little,  and 
sadly.  "  No,  John." 

"  Take  me  with  you,  father !  Take  me  with  you, 
and  let  us  find  it !  "  His  voice  had  trembled  then, 
and  he  had  had  to  gulp  hard. 

"  Listen,  John,  for  what  I  am  saying  is  very  im- 
portant. You  don't  know  what  I  mean  now,  but 
sometime  you  will."  The  whisper  had  grown 
strained  and  frayed,  but  it  was  still  distinct.  "  I 
can't  go  to  the  Never-Never  Land.  But  you  may 
sometime.  If  you  ...  if  you  do,  and  if  you  find 
Wishing-House,  remember  that  the  men  who 
lived  in  it  ...  before  you  and  me  .  .  .  were  gen- 
tlemen. Whatever  else  they  were,  they  were  al- 


28        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 


ways  that.  Be  ...  like  them,  John  .  .  .  will 
you?" 

"  Yes,  father." 

The  old  gentleman  with  the  eye-glasses  had  come 
forward  then,  hastily. 

"Good-night,  father—" 

He  had  wanted  to  kiss  him,  but  a  strange  cool 
hush  had  settled  on  the  room  and  his  father  seemed 
all  at  once  to  have  fallen  asleep.  And  he  had  gone 
out,  so  carefully,  on  tiptoe,  wondering,  and  sud- 
denly afraid. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   TURN    OF   THE    PAGE 

JOHN  VALIANT  stirred  and  laughed,  a  lit- 
tle self-consciously,  for  there  had  been  drops 
on  his  face. 

Presently  he  took  a  check-book  from  his  pocket 
and  began  to  figure  on  the  stub,  looking  up  with 
a  wry  smile.  "  To  come  down  to  brass  tacks,"  he 
muttered,  "  when  I've  settled  everything  (thank 
heaven,  I  don't  owe  my  tailor!)  there  will  be  a 
little  matter  of  twenty-eight  hundred  odd  dollars, 
a  passe  motor  and  my  clothes  between  me  and  the 
bread-line !  " 

Everything  else  he  had  disposed  of  —  everything 
but  the  four-footed  comrade  there  at  his  feet.  At 
his  look,  the  white  bulldog  sprang  up  whining  and 
made  joyful  pretense  of  devouring  his  master's 
immaculate  boot-laces.  Valiant  put  his  hand  un- 
der the  eager  muzzle,  lifted  the  intelligent  head  to 
his  knee  and  looked  into  the  beseeching  amber  eyes. 
"  But  I'd  not  sell  you,  old  chap,"  he  said  softly ; 
"  not  a  single  lick  of  your  friendly  pink  tongue ;  not 
for  a  beastly  hundred  thousand ! " 

He  withdrew  his  caressing  hand  and  looked 
29 


30        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

again  at  the  check-stub.  Twenty-eight  hundred! 
He  laughed  bleakly.  Why,  he  had  spent  more  than 
that  a  month  ago  on  a  ball  at  Sherry's !  This  morn- 
ing he  had  been  rich ;  to-night  he  was  poor !  He 
had  imagined  this  in  the  abstract,  but  now  of  a 
sudden  the  fact  seemed  fraught  with  such  a  ghastly 
and  nightmarish  ridiculousness  as  a  man  might 
feel  who,  going  to  bed  with  a  full  thatch  of  hair, 
confronts  the  morning  mirror  to  find  himself  as 
bald  as  a  porcelain  mandarin. 

What  could  he  do?  He  could  not  remember  a 
time  when  he  had  not  had  all  that  he  wanted.  He 
had  never  borrowed  from  a  friend  or  been  dunned 
by  an  importunate  tradesman.  And  he  had  never 
tried  to  earn  a  dollar  in  his  life;  as  to  current 
methods  of  making  a  living,  he  was  as  ignorant  as 
a  Pueblo  Indian. 

What  did  others  do?  The  men  he  knew  who 
joked  of  their  poverty  and  their  debts,  and  whose 
hilarious  habit  it  was  to  picture  life  as  a  desperate 
handicap  in  which  they  were  forever  "  three  jumps 
ahead  of  the  sheriff  ",  somehow  managed  to  cling  to 
their  yachts  and  their  stables.  Few  of  his  friends 
had  really  gone  "  smash  ",  and  of  these  all  but  one 
had  taken  themselves  speedily  and  decently  off.  He 
thought  of  Rod  Creighton,  the  one  failure  who  had 
clung  to  the  old  life,  achieving  for  a  transient 
period  the  brilliant  success  of  living  on  his  friends. 
When  this  ended  he  had  gone  on  the  road  for  some 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  PAGE  31 

champagne  or  other.  Everybody  ha4  ordered  from 
him  at  the  start.  But  this,  too,  had  failed.  He  had 
dropped  out  of  the  clubs  and  there  had  at  last  be- 
fallen an  evil  time  when  he  had  come  to  haunt  the 
avenue,  as  keen  for  stray  quarters  as  any  pan- 
handler. Where  was  Creighton  now,  he  won- 
dered? 

Across  the  avenue  was  Larry  Treadwell's 
brokerage  office.  Larry  had  a  brain  for  business; 
as  a  youthful  scamp  in  knickerbockers  he  had  been 
as  sharp  as  a  steel-trap.  But  what  did  he,  John 
Valiant,  know  of  business?  Less  than  of  law! 
Why,  he  was  not  fit  to  smirk  behind  a  counter  and 
measure  lace  insertion  for  the  petticoats  of  the 
women  he  waltzed  with!  All  he  was  really  fit  for 
was  to  work  with  his  hands! 

He  thought  of  a  gang  of  laborers  he  had  seen 
that  afternoon  breaking  the  asphalt  with  crowbars. 
What  must  it  be  to  toil  through  the  clammy  cold  of 
winter  and  the  smothering  fur-heat  of  summer,  in 
some  revolting  routine  of  filth  and  unredeemable 
ugliness?  He  looked  down  at  his  supple  white 
fingers  and  shivered. 

He  rose  grimly  and  dragged  his  chair  facing  the 
window.  The  night  was  balmy  and  he  looked 
clown  across  the  darker  sea  of  reefs,  barred  like  a 
gigantic  checker-board  by  the  shining  lines  of 
streets,  to  where  the  flashing  electric  signs  of  the 
theater  district  laid  their  wide  swath  of  colored 


32        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

radiance.  The  manifold  calls  of  the  street  and 
the  buzz  of  trolleys  made  a  dull  tonal  background, 
subdued  and  far-away. 

To  be  outside !  All  that  light  and  color  and  com- 
fort and  pleasure  would  hum  and  sparkle  on  just 
the  same,  though  he  was  no  longer  within  the  circle 
of  its  effulgence  —  slaving  perhaps,  he  thought  with 
a  twisted  smile,  at  some  tawdry  occupation  that 
called  for  no  experience,  to  pay  for  a  meal  in  some 
second-rate  restaurant  and  a  pallet  in  some  shabby- 
genteel,  hall  bedroom,  till  his  clothes  were  replaced 
by  ill-fitting  "  hand-me-downs  " —  till  by  wretched 
gradations  he  arrived  finally  at  the  status  of  the 
dime  seat  in  the  gallery  and  five-cent  cigars ! 

There  was  one  way  back.  It  lay  through  the 
hackneyed  gateway  of  marriage.  Youth,  comeli- 
ness and  fine  linen,  in  the  world  he  knew,  were  a 
fair  exchange  for  wealth  any  day.  "  Cutlet  for 
cutlet  " —  the  satiric  phrase  ran  through  his  mind. 
Why  not?  Others  did  so.  And  as  for  himself,  it 
perhaps  need  be  no  question  of  plain  and  spinstered 
millions  —  there  was  Katharine  Fargo ! 

He  had  known  her  since  a  time  when  she  be- 
strode a  small  fuzzy  pony  in  the  park,  cool  as  a 
grapefruit  and  with  a  critical  eye,  even  in  her  ten 
years,  for  social  forms  and  observances.  In  the  in- 
tervals of  fashionable  boarding-schools  he  had  seen 
her  develop,  beautiful,  cold,  stately  and  correct. 
The  Fargo  fortune  —  thanks  to  modern  journalism, 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  PAGE  33 

•which  was  fond  of  stating  that  if  the  steel  rails  of 
the  Fargo  railways  were  set  end  to  end,  the  chain 
would  reach  from  the  earth  to  the  planet  Saturn 
or  thereabouts  —  was  as  familiar  to  the  public  im- 
agination as  Caruso  or  the  Hope  diamond.  And 
the  daughter  Katharine  had  not  lacked  admirers; 
shop-girls  knew  the  scalps  that  dangled  from  her 
girdle.  But  in  his  heart  John  Valiant  was  aware, 
by  those  subtle  signs  which  men  and  women  alike 
distinguish,  that  while  Katharine  Fargo  loved  first 
and  foremost  only  her  own  wonderful  person,  he 
had  been  an  easy  second  in  her  regard. 

He  remembered  the  last  Christmas  house-party 
at  the  Fargos'  place  on  the  St.  Lawrence.  Its  hab- 
itues irreverently  dubbed  this  "The  Shack",  but 
it  was  the  nursling  of  folk  who  took  their  camping 
luxuriously,  in  a  palatial  structure  which,  though 
built,  as  to  its  exterior,  of  logs,  was  equipped  within 
with  Turkish  bath,  billiard-room  and  the  most  in- 
defatigable chef  west  of  St.  Petersburg.  The 
evening  before  his  host's  swift  motor  had  hooted 
him  off  to  the  station,  as  its  wide  hall  exhaled  the 
bouquet  of  after-dinner  cigars,  he  had  looked  at 
her  standing  in  the  wide  doorway,  a  rare  exquisite 
creature  —  her  face  fore-shortened  and  touched  to 
a  borrowed  tenderness  by  the  flickering  glow  of 
the  burning  logs  in  the  room  behind  —  the  perfect 
flower,  he  had  thought,  of  the  civilization  in  which 
he  lived. 


34        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

John  Valiant  looked  down  at  the  bulldog 
squatted  on  the  floor,  his  eyes  shining  in  the  dim- 
ness. A  little  hot  ripple  had  run  over  him.  "  Not 
on  your  life,  Chum !  "  he  said.  "  No  shameless  bar- 
ter! There  must  be  other  things  besides  money 
and  social  position  in  this  doddering  old  world,  after 
all !  " 

The  dog  whined  with  delight  at  the  voice  and 
jumped  up  to  lick  the  strong  tense  hand  held  down 
to  him.  "  Do  you  know,  old  chap,"  his  master  con- 
tinued, "  I've  been  handing  myself  a  collection  of 
cold  marble  truths  in  the  last  few  weeks?  I've 
been  the  prize  dolt  of  the  whole  show,  and  you 
ought  to  have  thrown  me  over  long  ago.  You've 
probably  realized  it  all  along,  but  it  has  never 
dawned  on  me  until  lately.  I've  worn  the  blue  rib- 
bon so  long  I'd  come  to  think  it  was  a  decoration. 
All  my  life  I've  been  just  another  of  those  well- 
meaning,  brainless  young  idiots  who  have  never 
done  a  blessed  thing  that's  the  slightest  value  to 
anybody  else.  Well,  Chum,  we're  through.  We're 
going  to  begin  doing  something  for  ourselves,  if 
it's  only  raising  cabbages!  And  we're  going  to 
stand  it  without  any  baby-aching  —  the  nurse  never 
held  our  noses  when  we  took  our  castor-oil !  " 

It  was  folded  down,  that  old  bright  page. 
Finis  had  been  written  to  the  rose-colored  chapter. 
And  even  as  he  told  himself,  he  was  conscious  of  a 
new  rugged  something  that  had  been  slowly  dawn- 


THE  TURN  OF  THE  PAGE  35 

ing  within  him,  a  sense  of  courage;  even  of  zest, 
and  a  furious  hatred  of  the  self-pity  that  had 
wrenched  him  even  for  a  moment. 

He  turned  from  the  window,  picked  up  his  letters, 
and  followed  by  the  dog,  went  slowly  up  another 
flight  to  his  room. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   LETTER 

HE  tore  open  the  letters  abstractedly:  the 
usual  dinner-card  or  two,  a  tailor's  spring  an- 
nouncement, a  chronic  serial  from  an  exclamatory 
marble-quarrying  company,  a  quarterly  statement 
of  a  club  house-committee.  The  last  two  missives 
bore  a  nondescript  look. 

One  was  small,  with  the  name  of  a  legal  firm 
in  its  corner.  The  other  was  largish,  corpulent  and 
heavy,  of  stout  Manila  paper,  and  bore,  down  one 
side,  a  gaudy  procession  of  postage  stamps  pro- 
claiming that  it  had  been  registered. 

"What's  in  that,  I  wonder?"  he  said  to  him- 
self, and  then,  with  a  smile  at  the  unmasculine  spec- 
ulation, opened  the  smaller  envelope. 

"  Dear  Sir,"  began  the  letter,  in  the  most  uncom- 
promisingly conventional  of  typewriting: 

"Dear  Sir: 

"  Enclosed  please  find,  with  title-deed,  a  memo- 
randum opened  in  your  name  by  the  late  John 
Valiant  some  years  before  his  death.  It  was  his 
desire  that  the  services  indicated  in  connection  with 
this  estate  should  continue  till  this  date.  We  hand 

36 


THE  LETTER  37 

you  herewith  our  check  for  $236.20,  (two  hundred 
and  thirty-six  dollars  and  twenty  cents),  the  balance 
in  your  favor,  for  which  please  send  receipt, 
"  And  oblige, 

"  Yours  very  truly, 
"  (Enclosure)  "EMERSON  AND  BALL." 

He  turned  to  the  memorandum.  It  showed  a 
sizable  initial  deposit  against  which  was  entered 
a  series  of  annual  tax  payments  with  minor  dis- 
bursements credited  to  "  Inspection  and  care." 
The  tax  receipts  were  pinned  to  the  account 

The  larger  wrapper  contained  an  unsealed  envel- 
ope, across  which  was  written  in  faded  ink  and  in 
an  unfamiliar  dashing,  slanting  handwriting,  his 
own  name.  The  envelope  contained  a  creased  yel- 
low parchment,  from  between  whose  folds  there 
clumped  and  fluttered  down  upon  the  floor  a  long 
flattish  object  wrapped  in  a  paper,  a  newspaper  clip- 
ping and  a  letter. 

Puzzledly  he  unfolded  the  crackling  thing  in  his 
hands.  "  Why,"  he  said  half  aloud,  "  it's  —  it's  a 
deed  made  over  to  me."  He  overran  it  swiftly. 
"  Part  of  an  old  Colony  grant  ...  a  planta- 
tion in  Virginia,  twelve  hundred  odd  acres,  given 
under  the  hand  of  a  vice-regal  governor  in  the 
sixteenth  century.  I  had  no  idea  titles  in  the  United 
States  went  back  so  far  as  that ! "  His  eye  fled 
to  the  end.  "  It  was  my  father's !  What  could  he 
have  wanted  of  an  estate  in  Virginia?  It  must 


38        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

have  come  into  his  hands  in  the  course  of  busi- 
ness." 

He  fairly  groaned.  "  Ye  gods !  If  it  were  only 
Long  Island,  or  even  Pike  County!  The  sorriest, 
out-at-elbow,  boulder-ridden,  mosquito-stung  old 
rock- farm  there  would  bring  a  decent  sum.  But 
Virginia!  The  place  where  the  dialect  stories 
grow.  The  paradise  of  the  Jim-crow  car  and  the 
hook-worm,  where  land-poor,  clay-colored  colonels 
with  goatees  sit  in  green  wicker  lawn-chairs  and 
watch  their  shadows  go  round  the  house,  while 
they  guzzle  mint- juleps  and  cuss  at  lazy  *  cullud 
pussons/  Where  everybody  is  an  F.  F.  V.  and 
everybody's  grandfather  was  a  patroon,  or  what- 
ever they  call  'em,  and  had  a  thousand  slaves  '  be- 
foh  de  wah  ' !  " 

Who  ever  heard  of  Virginia  nowadays,  except  as 
a  place  people  came  from?  The  principal  event  in 
the  history  of  the  state  since  the  Civil  War  had 
been  the  discovery  of  New  York.  Its  men  had 
moved  upon  the  latter  en  masse,  coming  with  the 
halo  about  them  of  old  Southern  names  and  legends 
of  planter  hospitality  —  and  had  married  Northern 
women,  till  the  announcement  in  the  marriage  col- 
umn that  the  fathers  of  bride  and  bridegroom  had 
fought  in  opposing  armies  at  the  battle  of  Manassas 
had  grown  as  hackneyed  as  the  stereotyped 
"Whither  are  we  drifting?"  editorial.  Bjt  was 
Virginia  herself  anything  more,  in  this  twentieth 


THE  LETTER  39 

century,  than  a  hot-blooded,  high-handed,  prodigal 
legend,  kept  alive  in  the  North  by  the  banquets  of 
"  Southern  Societies  "  and  annual  poems  on  "  The 
Lost  Cause  "  ? 

He  picked  up  the  newspaper  clipping.  It  was 
worn  and  broken  in  the  folds  as  if  it  had  been  car- 
ried for  months  in  a  pocketbook. 

"  It  will  interest  readers  of  this  section  of  Vir- 
ginia (the  paragraph  began)  to  learn,  from  a  re- 
cent transfer  received  for  record  at  the  County 
Clerk's  Office,  that  Damory  Court  has  passed  to 
Mr.  John  Valiant,  minor  — " 

He  turned  the  paper  over  and  found  a  date ;  it  had 
been  printed  in  the  year  of  the  transfer  to  himself, 
when  he  was  six  years  old  —  the  year  his  father 
had  died. 


"  —  John  Valiant,  minor,  the  son  of  the  former 
owner. 

"  There  are  few  indeed  who  do  not  recall  the 
tragedy  with  which  in  the  public  mind  the  estate 
is  connected.  The  fact,  moreover,  that  this  old 
homestead  has  been  left  in  its  present  state  (for, 
as  is  well  known,  the  house  has  remained  with  all 
its  contents  and  furnishings  untouched)  to  rest 
during  so  long  a  term  of  years  unoccupied,  could 
not,  of  course,  fail  to  be  commented  on,  and  this 
circumstance  alone  has  perhaps  tended  to  keep 
alive  a  melancholy  story  which  may  well  be  for- 
gotten." 


40        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

He  read  the  elaborate,  rather  stilted  phraseology 
in  the  twenty-year-old  paper  with  a  wondering  in- 
terest. "  An  old  house,"  he  mused,  "  with  a  bad 
name.  Probably  he  couldn't  sell  it,  and  maybe  no- 
body would  even  live  in  it.  That  would  explain 
why  it  remained  so  long  unoccupied  —  why  there 
are  no  records  of  rentals.  Probably  the  land  was 
starved  and  run  down.  At  any  rate,  in  twenty 
years  it  would  be  overgrown  with  stubble." 

Yet,  whatever  their  condition,  acres  of  land  were, 
after  all,  a  tangible  thing.  This  lawyer's  firm 
might,  instead,  have  sent  him  a  bundle  of  beauti- 
fully engraved  certificates  of  stock  in  some  zinc- 
mine  whose  imaginary  bottom  had  dropped  out  ten 
years  ago.  Here  was  real  property,  in  size,  at  least, 
a  gentleman's  domain,  on  which  real  taxes  had 
been  paid  during  a  long  term  —  a  sort  of  hilarious 
consolation  prize,  hurtling  to  him  out  of  the  void 
like  the  magic  gift  of  the  traditional  fairy  god- 
mother. 

"  It's  an  off-set  to  the  hall-bedroom  idea,  at  any 
rate,"  he  said  to  himself  humorously.  "  It  holds 
out  an  escape  from  the  noble  army  of  rent-payers. 
When  my  twenty-eight  hundred  is  gone,  I  could  live 
down  there  a  landed  proprietor,  and  by  the  same 
mark  an  honorary  colonel,  and  raise  the  cabbages 
I  was  talking  about  —  eh,  Chum?  —  while  you 
stalk  rabbits.  How  does  that  strike  you?  " 

He  laughed  whimsically.     He,  John  Valiant,  of 


THE  LETTER  41 

New  York,  first-nighter  at  its  theaters,  hail-fellow- 
well-met  in  its  club  corridors  and  welcome  diner  at 
any  one  of  a  hundred  brilliant  glass-and-silver- 
twinkling  supper- tables,  entombed  on  the  wreck  of 
a  Virginia  plantation,  a  would-be  country  gentle- 
man, on  an  automobile  and  next  to  nothing  a 
year! 

He  bethought  himself  of  the  fallen  letter  and 
possessed  himself  of  it  quickly.  It  lay  with  the 
superscription  side  down.  On  it  was  written,  in 
the  same  hand  which  had  addressed  the  other  en- 
velope : 

For  my  son,  John  Valiant, 

When  he  reaches  the  age  of  twenty-five. 

That,  then,  had  been  written  by  his  father  —  and 
he  had  died  nearly  twenty  years  ago!  He  broke 
the  seal  with  a  strange  feeling  as  if,  walking  in 
some  familiar  thoroughfare,  he  had  stumbled  on  a 
lichened  and  sunken  tombstone, 

"When  you  read  this,  my  son,  you  will  have 
come  to  man's  estate.  It  is  curious  to  think  that  this 
black,  black  ink  may  be  faded  to  gray  and  his  white, 
white  paper  yellowed,  just  from  lying  waiting  so 
long.  But  strangest  of  all  is  to  think  that  you 
yourself  whose  brown  head  hardly  tops  this  desk, 
will  be  as  tall  (I  hope)  as  I!  How  I  wonder  what 
you  will  look  like  then !  And  shall  I  —  the  real, 
real  I,  I  mean  —  be  peering  over  your  strong  broad 
shoulder  rs  you  read?  Who  knows?  Wise  men 


42        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

ha.ve  dreamed  such  a  thing  possible  —  and  I  am 
not  a  bit  wise. 

"  John,  you  will  not  have  forgotten  that  you  are 
a  Valiant.  But  you  are  also  a  Virginian.  Will 
you  have  discovered  this  for  yourself?  Here  is  the 
deed  to  the  land  where  I  and  my  father,  and  his 
father,  and  many,  many  more  Valiants  before  them 
were  born.  Sometime,  perhaps,  you  will  know  why 
you  are  John  Valiant  of  New  York  instead  of  John 
Valiant  of  Damory  Court.  I  can  not  tell  you  my- 
self, because  it  is  too  true  a  story,  and  I  have  for- 
gotten how  to  tell  any  but  fairy  tales,  whare 
everything  happens  right,  where  the  Prince  mar- 
ries the  beautiful  Princess  and  they  live  happily  to- 
gether ever  after. 

*  You  may  never  car-  to  live  at  Damory  Court. 
Maybe  the  life  you  will  know  so  well  by  the  time 
you  read  thic  will  have  welded  you  to  itself  If  so, 
well  and  good.  Then  leave  the  old  place  to  your 
son.  But  there  is  such  a  thing  as  racia'  habit,  and 
the  call  of  blood.  And  I  know  there  is  such  a  thing, 
too,  as  fate.  '  Every  man  carries  his  fate  on  a  rib- 
and about  his  neck  ' ;  so  the  Moslem  put  it.  It  was 
my  fate  to  go  away,  and  I  know  now  —  since  dis- 
tance is  not  made  by  miles  alone  —  that  I  myself 
shall  never  see  Damory  Court  again.  But  life  is 
a  strange  wheel  that  goes  round  and  round  and 
comes  back  to  the  same  point  again  and  again. 
And  it  may  be  your  fate  to  go  back.  Then  per- 
haps you  will  cry  (but,  oh,  not  on  the  old  white 
bear's-skin  rug  —  never  again  with  me  holding  your 
small,  small  hand!) — 

'  Wishing-House !  Wishing-House !  Where  are 

YOU?  ' 


THE  LETTER  43 

"  And  this  old  parchment  deed  will  answer  — 

"  '  Here  I  am,  Master ;  here  I  am ! ' 

"  Ah,  we  are  only  children,  after  all,  playing  out 
our  plays.  I  have  had  many  toys,  but  O  John, 
John!  The  ones  I  treasure  most  are  all  in  the 
Never-Never  Land ! " 


CHAPTER  VI 

A    VALIANT   OF  VIRGINIA 

T7VOR  a  long  time  John  Valiant  sat  motionless, 
J7  the  opened  letter  in  his  hand,  staring  at  noth- 
ing. He  had  the  sensation,  spiritually,  of  a 
traveler  awakened  with  a  rude  shock  amid  wholly 
unfamiliar  surroundings.  He  had  passed  through 
so  many  conflicting  states  of  emotion  that  after- 
noon and  evening  that  he  felt  numb. 

He  was  trying  to  remember  —  to  put  two  and 
two  together.  His  father  had  been  Southern-born; 
yes,  he  had  known  that.  But  he  had  known  noth- 
ing whatever  of  his  father's  early  days,  or  of  his 
forebears ;  since  he  had  been  old  enough  to  wonder 
about  such  things,  he  had  had  no  one  to  ask  ques- 
tions of.  There  had  been  no  private  papers  or 
letters  left  for  his  adult  perusal.  It  had  been 
borne  upon  him  very  early  that  his  father's  life  had 
not  been  a  happy  one.  He  had  seldom  laughed, 
and  his  hair  had  been  streaked  with  jfray,  yet  when 
*ie  died  he  had  been  but  ten  years  older  than  the 
son  was  now. 

Phrases  of  the  letter  ran  through  his  mind: 
44 


A  VALIANT  OF  VIRGINIA  45 

"  Sometime,  perhaps,  you  will  know*  why  you  are 
John  Valiant  of  New  York  instead  of  John  Valiant 
of  Damory  Court.  .  .  .  I  can  l/ot  tell  you  myself." 
There  was  some  tragedy,  then,  that  had  blighted 
the  place,  some  "  melancholy  story,"  as  the  clipping 
put  it. 

He  bent  over  the  deed  spread  out  upon  the  table, 
following  with  his  finger  the  long  line  of  transfers : 
"  '  To  John  Valyante,'  "  he  muttered ;  "  what  odd 
spelling!  'Robert  Valyant ' — without  the  '  e.' 
Here,  in  1730,  the  '  y '  begins  io  be  '  i.'  "  There 
was  something  strenuous  and  appealing  in  the  long 
line  of  dates.  "  Valiant.  Always  a  Valiant. 
How  they  held  on  to  it  I  There's  never  a  break." 

A  curious  pride,  new-born  and  self-conscious,  was 
dawning  in  him.  He  was  descended  from  an- 
cestors who  had  been  no  weaklings.  A  Valiant  had 
settled  on  those  acres  under  a  royal  governor,  be- 
fore the  old  frontier  fighting  was  over  and  the  In- 
dians had  sullenly  retired  to  the  westward.  The 
sons  of  those  who  had  braved  sea  and  savages  had 
bowed  their  str  ng  bodies  and  their  stronger  hearts 
to  raze  the  forests  and  turn  the  primeval  jungles 
into  golden  plantations.  Except  as  regarded  his 
father,  Valiant  had  never  known  ancestral  pride  be- 
fore. He  had  been  proud  of  his  strong  and  healthy 
frame,  of  his  ability  to  ride  like  a  dragoon,  un- 
consciously, perhaps,  a  little  proud  of  his  wealth. 
But  pride  in  the  larger  sense,  reverence  for  the  past 


46        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

based  upon  a  respect  for  ancient  lineage,  he  had 
never  known  until  this  moment. 

Where  was  his  facetious  concept  of  Virginia 
now?  He  remembered  his  characterization  of  it 
with  a  wincing  half -humorous  mortification — z 
slender  needle-prick  of  shame.  The  empty  preten- 
s'ons,  subsisting  on  the  vanished  glories  of  the  prst, 
had  suddenly  acquired  character  and  meaning.  He 
himself  was  a,  Virginian. 

There  below  him  stretched  the  great  cafioned 
city,  its  avenues  roaring  with  nightly  gaiety,  its 
roadways  bright  v/ith  the  beams  of  shuttling  mo- 
tors, its  theaters  ana  cafes  brilliant  with  women 
in  throbbing  hues  and  men  in  black  and  white,  and 
its  "  Great  White  Way  "  blazing  with  incandescents, 
interminable  and  alluring  —  an  apotheosis  of 
fevered  movement  and  hectic  color.  He  knew  sud- 
denly that  he  was  sick  of  it  all :  its  jostle  and  glitter, 
its  mad  race  after  bubbles,  its  hideous  under-sur- 
face  contrasts  of  wealth  and  squalor,  its  lukewarm 
friendships  and  fdse  standards  which  he  had  been 
so  bitterly  unlearning.  He  knew  that,  for  all  his 
self-pity,  he  was  at  heart  full  of  a  tired  longing  for 
•wide  uncrowded  nature,  for  green  breezy  inter- 
ludes and  a  sky  of  untainted  sunlight  or  peaceful 
stars. 

There  stole  into  his  mood  an  eery  suggestion  of 
intention.  Why  should  the  date  assigned  for  that 
deed's  delivery  have  been  the  very  day  on  which 


A  VALIANT  OF  VIRGINIA  47 

he  had  elected  poverty  ?  Here  was^  a  f oreordina- 
tion  as  pointed  as  the  index-finger  of  a  guide-post. 
"  '  Every  man  carries  his  fate/  "  he  repeated,  "  *  on 
a  riband  about  his  neck.'  Chum,  do  you  believe  in 
fate?" 

For  answer  the  bulldog,  cocking  an  alert  eye  on 
his  master,  discontinued  his  occupation  —  a  con- 
scientious if  unsuccessful  mastication  of  the-flattish 
packet  that  had  fallen  from  the  folded  deed  —  and 
with  much  solicitous  tail-wagging,  brought  the  sod- 
den thing  in  his  mouth  and  put  it  into  the  out- 
stretched hand. 

His  master  unrolled  the  pulpy  wad  and  extri- 
cated the  object  it  had  enclosed  —  an  old-fashioned 
iron  door-key. 

After  a  time  Valiant  thrust  the  key  into  his 
pocket,  and  rising,  went  to  a  trunk  that  lay  against 
the  wall.  Searching  in  a  portfolio,  he  took  out  a 
small  old-fashioned  photograph,  much  battered 
and  soiled.  It  had  been  cut  from  a  larger  group 
and  the  name  of  the  photographer  had  been  erased 
from  the  back.  He  set  it  upright  on  the  desk,  and 
bending  forward,  looked  long  at  the  face  it  dis- 
closed. It  was  the  only  picture  he  had  ever  pos- 
sessed of  his  father. 

He  turned  and  looked  into  the  glass  above  the 
dresser.  The  features  were  the  same,  eyes,  brow, 
lips,  and  strong  waving  hair.  But  for  its  time- 


48        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

stains  the  photograph  might  have  been  one  of  him- 
self, taken  yesterday. 

For  an  hour  he  sat  in  the  bright  light  thinking, 
the  pictured  face  propped  on  the  desk  before  him, 
the  dog  snuggled  against  his  knee. 


CHAPTER  VII 

ON   THE   RED    ROAD 

THE  green,  mid  May  Virginian  afternoon  was 
arched  with  a  sky  as  blue  as  the  tiles  of  the 
Temple  of  Heaven  and  steeped  in  a  wash  of  3un- 
light  as  yellow  as  gold :  smoke-hazy  peaks  piling  ut 
in  the  distance  billowy  verdure  like  clumps  ot  trem 
bling  jade  between,  shaded  with  masses  of  blue -'.  >lack 
shadow,  and  lazying  •  ip  and  down,  by  gashed  ravine 
and  rounded  knoil.  a  road  like  red  lacquer,  fringed 
with  stone  wall  and  sturdy  shrub  and  splashed  1^ere 
and  there  with  the  purple  stain  of  the  Judas-tr^e 
and  the  snow  of  dogwood  blooms.  Nothing  in  all 
the  springy  landscape  out  looked  warm  and  opales- 
cent and  inviting  —  except  a  tawny  bull  tha;  from 
across  a  Darred  fence-corner  switched  a  truculent 
tail  in  silence  and  glowered  sullenly  at  the  big  motor 
halted  motionless  at  the  side  of  the  twisting  road. 

Curled  worm-like  in  the  driver's  seat,  with  his 
chin  on  his  knees,  John  Valiant  sat  with  his  eyes 
upon  the  distance.  For  an  hour  he  had  whirred 
through  that  wondrous  shimmer  of  color  with  a 
flippant  loitering  breeze  in  his  face,  sweet  from  the 
crimson  clover  that  poured  and  rioted  over  the 

49 


50        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

roadside:  past  nests  of  meditative  farm-buildings, 
fields  of  baby-green  corn,  occasional  ramshackle 
dirt-daubed  cabins  with  doorways  hung  with  yel- 
.iow  honeysuckle  and  flagrant  trumpet-vines,  and 
here  and  there  i.  quiet  old  church,  Gothic  and  ivied 
and  gray.  wh,>oe  Beaded  windows  watched  be- 
nignantly  over  "nyrtled  graveyards.  A  great  sooth- 
ing suspi  ration  01  peace  seemed  to  swell  from  it  all 
to  iap  the  traveler  like  the  moist  balminess  of  a 
semi-tropical  sea. 

''Chum  ola  man,"  said  Valiant,  with  his  arm 
about  the  bulldog's  neck,  "  if  those  color-photo- 
graph chaps  haa  shown  us  this,  we  simply  wouldn't 
have  believed  it,  would  we?  Such  scenery  beats 
the  roads  we're  used  to.  what?  If  it  were  all  like 
this --bur  01  course  it  isn't.  We'll  get  to  our  own 
bailiwick  presently,  and  wake  up.  Never  mind ; 
we're  country  gentlemen,  Chummy,  en  route  to  our 
estate!  No  silly  snuffle,  now!  Out  with  it! 
That's  right," —  as  a  sharp  bark  rewarded  him  — 
"that's  the  proper  enthusiasm."  He  wound  his 
strong  fingers  in  a  choking  grip  in  the  scruff  of  the 
white  neck,  as  a  chipmunk  chattered  by  on  the  low 
stone  wall.  "  No,  you  don't,  you  cannibal !  He's 
a  jolly  little  beggar,  and  he  doesn't  deserve  being 
eaten!" 

He  filled  his  brier-wood  pipe  and  drew  in  great 
breaths  of  the  fragrant  incense.  "  What  a  pity 
you  don't  smoke,  Chum;  you  miss  such  a  lot!  I 


ON  THE  RED  ROAD  51 

saw  a  poodle  once  in  a  circus  that  did.  But  he'd 
been  to  college.  Think  how  you  could  think  i£ 
you  only  smoked!  We  may  have  to  do  a  lot  of 
thinking,  where  we're  bound  to.  Wonder  what 
we'll  find?  Oh,  that's  right,  leave  it  all  to  me,  of 
course,  and  wash  your  paws  of  the  whole  blooming 
business!  " 

After  a  time  he  shook  himself  and  knocked  the 
red  core  from  the  pipe-bowl  against  his  boot-heel. 
"  I  hate  to  start/'  he  confessed,  half  to  the  dog  and 
half  to  himself.  "To  leave  anything  so  sheerly 
beautiful  as  this!  However,  on  with  the  dance! 
By  the  road  map  the  village  can't  be  far  now.  So 
long,  Mr.  Bull !  " 

He  clutched  the  self-starter.  But  there  was  only 
a  protestant  wheeze;  the  car  declined  to  budge. 
Climbing  down,  he  cranked  vigorously.  The  motor 
turned  over  with  a  surly  grunt  of  remonstrance 
and  after  a  tentative  throb-throb,  coughed  and 
stopped  dead.  Something  was  wrong.  With  a 
sigh  he  flung  off  his  tweed  jacket,  donned  a  smudgy 
"  jumper,"  opened  his  tool-box,  and,  with  a  glance 
at  his  wrist-watch  which  told  him  it  was  three 
o'clock,  threw  up  the  monster's  hood  and  went  bit- 
terly to  work. 

At  half  past  three  the  investigation  had  got  as 
far  as  the  lubricator.  At  four  o'clock  the  bull- 
dog had  given  it  up  and  gone  nosing  afield.  At 
half  past  four  John  Valiant  lay  flat  on  his  back 


52        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

like  some  disreputable  stevadore,  alternately  tinker- 
ing with  refractory  valves  and  cursing  the  obdurate 
mechanism.  Over  his  right  eye  an  ooze  of  orange- 
colored  oil  glowered  and  glistened  and  indefatigably 
drip-dripped  into  his  shrinking  collar.  A  sharp 
stone  gnawed  frenziedly  into  the  small  of  his  back 
and  just  as  he  made  a  final  vicious  lunge,  something 
gave  way  and  a  prickling  red-hot  stab  of  pain  shot 
zigzagging  from  his  smitten  crazy-bone  through 
every  tortured  crevice  of  his  impatient  frame.  Like 
steel  from  flint  it  struck  out  a  crisp  oath  that  brought 
an  answering  bovine  snort  from  the  fence-corner. 

Worming  like  a  lizard  to  freeaom,  his  eyes  puck- 
ered shut  with  the  wretched  pang,  John  Valiant  sat 
up  and  shook  his  grimy  fist  in  the  air.  "  You  silly 
loafing  idiot !  "  he  cried.  "  Thump  your  own  crazy- 
bone  and  see  how  you  like  it !  You  —  oh,  lord  i  " 

His  arm  dropped,  and  a  flush  spread  over  his  face 
to  the  brow.  For  his  eyes  had  opened.  He  was 
gesturing  not  at  the  bull  but  at  a  girl,  who  fronted, 
him  beside  the  road,  haughtiness  in  the  very  hue  of 
her  gray-blue  linen  walking  suit  and,  in  the  clear- 
cut  cameo  face  under  her  felt  cavalry  hat,  myrtle- 
blue  eyes)  that  held  a  smolder  of  mingled  aston- 
ishment and  indignation.  The  long  ragged  stems 
of  two  crimson  roses  were  thrust  through  her  belt, 
a  splash  of  blood-red  against  the  pallid  weave.  An 
instant  he  gazed,  all  the  muscles  of  his  face  tight- 
ened with  chagrin. 


m 


• 


ON  THE  RED  ROAD  53 

"I  —  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  stammered.  "  I 
didn't  see  you.  I  really  didn't.  I  was  —  I  was 
talking  to  the  bull." 

The  girl  had  been  glancing  from  the  flushed  face 
to  the  thistly  fence-corner,  while  the  startled  dig- 
nity of  her  features  warred  with  an  unmistakable 
tendency  to  mirth.  He  could  see  the  little  rebellious 
twitch  of  the  vivid  lips,  the  tell-tale  flutter  of  the 
eyelids,  and  the  tremor  of  the  gauntlet ed  hand  as  it 
drew  the  hat  firmly  down  over  her  curling  masses 
©f  red-bronze.  "  What  hair ! "  he  .was  saying  to 
himself.  "It's  red,  but  what  a  red!  It  has  the 
burnish  of  hot  copper!  I  never  saw  such  hair!  " 

He  had  struggled  to  his  feet,  nursing  his  bruised 
elbow,  irritably  conscious  of  his  resemblance  to  an 
emerging  chimney-sweep.  "  I  don't  habitually 
swear,"  he  said,  "  but  I'd  got  to  the  point  when 
something  had  to  explode." 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  don't  mind  me ! "  Then  mirth 
conquered  and  she  broke  forth  suddenly  into  a  laugh 
that  seemed  to  set  the  whole  place  aquiver  with  a 
musical  contagion.  They  both  laughed  in  concert, 
while  the  bull  pawed  the  ground  and  sent  forth  a 
rumbling  bellow  of  affront  and  challenge. 

She  was  the  first  to  recover.  "  You  did  look  so 
funny !  "  she  gasped. 

"I  can  believe  it,"  he  agreed,  making  a  vicious 
dab  at  his  smudged  brow.  "  The  possibilities  of  a 
xnotor  for  comedy  are  simply  stupendous." 


54        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

She  came  closer  and  looked  curiously  at  the 
quiescent  monster  —  at  the  steamer-trunk  strapped 
on  the  carrier  and  the  bulging  portmanteau  peep- 
ing over  the  side  of  the  tonneau.  "  Is  it  broken?  " 

"  Merely  on  strike,  I  imagine.  I  think  it  re- 
sents the  quality  of  the  gasoline  I  got  at  Charlottes- 
ville.  I  can't  decide  whether  it  needs  a  monkey- 
wrench  or  a  mustard-plaster.  To  tell  the  truth,  it 
has  been  out  of  commission  and  I'm  not  much  of  an 
expert,  though  I  can  study  it  out  in  time.  Are  we 
far  from  the  village  ?  " 

"  About  a  mile  and  a  half." 

"  I'll  have  to  have  it  towed  after  me.  The  im- 
mediate point  is  my  traps.  I  wonder  if  there  is 
likely  to  be  a  team  passing." 

"  I'm  afraid  it's  not  too  certain,"  answered  the 
girl,  and  now  he  noted  the  liquid  modulation,  with 
its  slightly  questioning  accent,  charmingly  South- 
ern. "  There  is  no  livery,  but  there  is  a  negro  who 
meets  the  train  sometimes.  I  can  send  him  if  you 
like." 

"  You're  very  good,"  said  Valiant,  as  she  turned 
away,  "  and  I'll  be  enormously  obliged.  Oh  —  and 
if  you  see  a  white  dog,  don't  be  frightened  if  he 
tries  to  follow  you.  He's  perfectly  kind." 

She  looked  back  momentarily. 

"He  —  he  always  follows  people  he  likes,  you 
see  — " 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said.     The  tone  had  now  a 


ON  THE  RED  ROAD  55 

hint  —  small,  yet  perceptible  —  of  aloofness.  "  I'm 
not  in  the  least  afraid  of  dogs."  And  with  a  little 
nod,  she  swung  briskly  on  up  the  Red  Road. 

John  Valiant  stood  staring  after  her  till  she  had 
passed  from  view  around  a  curve.  "  Oh,  glory !  " 
he  muttered.  "  To  begin  by  shaking  your  fist  at 
her  and  end  by  making  her  wonder  if  you  aren't 
trying  to  be  fresh!  You  poor,  profane,  floundering 
dolt!" 

After  a  time  he  discarded  his  "  jumper  "  and  con- 
trived a  make-shift  toilet.  "  What  a  type !  "  he  said 
to  himself.  "  Corn-flower  eyes  and  a  blowse  of  cop- 
pery hair."  A  fragment  of  verse  ran  through  his 
mind: 

"  Tawny-flecked,  russet-brown,  in  a  tangle  of  gold, 

The  billowy  sweep  of  her  flame-washed  hair, 
Uke  amber  lace,  laid  fold  on  fold, 
Or  beaten  metal  beyond  compare." 

"  Delicacy  and  strength ! "  he  muttered,  as  he 
climbed  again  to  the  leather  seat.  "  The  steel  blade 
in  the  silk  scabbard.  With  that  face  in  repose  she 
might  have  been  a  maid  of  honor  of  the  Stuarts' 
time !  Yet  when  she  laughed  — " 

The  girl  walked  on  up  the  highway  with  a  lilting 
stride,  now  and  then  laughing  to  herself,  or  run- 
ning a  few  steps,  occasionally  stopping  by  some 
hedge  to  pull  a  leaf  which  she  rubbed  against  her 


56        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

cheek,  smelling  its  keen  new  scent,  or  stopping  to 
gaze  out  across  the  orange-green  belts  of  sunny 
wind-dimpled  fields,  one  hand  pushing  back  her  mu- 
tinous hair  from  her  brow,  the  other  shielding  her 
eyes.  When  she  had  passed  beyond  the  ken  of  the 
stranded  motor,  she  began  to  sing  a  snatch  of  a 
cabin  song,  her  vivid  red  lips  framing  themselves 
about  the  absurd  words  with  a  humorous  exaggera- 
tion of  the  soft  darky  pronunciation.  Beneath  its 
fun  her  voice  held  a  haunting  dreamy  quality,  as 
she  sang,  sometimes  in  the  blaze  of  sun,  sometimes 
with  leaf-shadows  above  her  through  which  the 
light  spurted  down  in  green-gilt  splashes.  Once 
she  stopped  suddenly,  and  crouching  down  by  a 
thorn-hedge,  whistled  —  a  low  mellow  tentative 
pipe  —  and  in  a  moment  a  brown-flecked  covey  of 
baby  partridges  rushed  out  of  the  grass  to  dart  in- 
stantly back  again.  She  laughed,  and  springing  up, 
threw  back  her  head  and  began  a  bird  song,  her 
slender  throat  pulsing  to  the  shake  and  reedy  trill. 
It  was  marvelously  done,  from  the  clear,  long  open- 
ing note  to  the  soaring  rapture  that  seemed  to  bub- 
ble and  break  all  at  once  into  its  final  crescendo. 

Farther  on  the  highroad  looped  around  a  strip 
of  young  forest,  and  she  struck  into  this  for  a  short 
cut.  Here  the  trees  stirred  faintly  in  the  breeze,' 
filling  the  place  with  leafy  rustlings  and  whisper- 
ings; yet  it  was  so  still  that  when  a  saffron-barred 
hornet  darted  through  with  an  intolerant  high- 


ON  THE  RED  ROAD  57 

keyed  hum,  it  made  the  air  for  an  instant  angrily 
vocal,  and  a  woodpecker's  tattoo  at  some  distance 
sounded  with  startling  loudness,  like  a  crackling 
series  of  pistol-shots. 

In  the  depth  of  this  wood  she  sat  down  to  rest 
on  the  sun-splashed  roots  of  a  tree.  Leaning  back 
against  the  seamed  trunk,  her  felt  hat  fallen  to  the 
ground,  she  looked  like  some  sea-woman  emerging 
from  an  earth-hued  pool  to  comb  her  hair  against 
a  dappled  rock.  The  ground  was  sparsely  covered 
with  gray-blue  bushes  whose  fronds  at  a  little  dis- 
tance blended  into  a  haze  till  they  seemed  like  bil- 
lows of  smoke  suddenly  solidified,  and  here  and 
there  a  darting  red  or  yellow  flower  gave  the  illu- 
sion of  an  under-tongue  of  flame.  Her  eyes,  pas- 
sionately eager,  peered  about  her,  drinking  in  each 
note  of  color  as  her  quick  ear  caught  each  twig- 
fall,  each  sound  of  bird  and  insect. 

She  drew  back  against  the  tree  and  caught  her 
breath  as  a  bulldog  frisked  over  a  mossy  boulder 
just  in  front  of  her. 

A  moment  more  and  she  had  thrown  herself  on 
her  knees  with  both  arms  outstretched.  "  Oh,  you 
splendid  creature ! "  she  cried,  "  you  big,  lovely 
white  darling!  " 

The  dog  seemed  in  no  way  averse  to  this  sensa- 
tional proceeding.  He  responded  instantly  not 
merely  with  tail-wagging,  but  with  ecstatic  grunts 
and  growls,  "  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  "  she 


5&        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

questioned,  as  his  pink  tongue  struggled  desperately 
to  find  a  cheek  through  the  whorl  of  coppery  hair. 
"  Why,  you  must  be  the  one  I  was  told  not  to  be 
afraid  of." 

She  petted  and  fondled  the  smooth  intelligent 
muzzle.  "As  if  any  one  could  be  afraid  of  you! 
We'll  set  your  master  right  on  that  point."  Smil- 
ing to  herself,  she  pulled  one  of  the  roses  from  her 
belt,  and  twisting  a  wisp  of  long  grass,  wound  it 
round  and  round  the  dog's  neck  and  thrust  the 
ragged  rose-stem  firmly  through  it.  "  Now,"  she 
said,  and  pushed  him  gently  from  her,  "  go  back, 
sir!" 

He  whined  and  licked  her  hand,  but  when  she 
repeated  the  command,  he  turned  obediently  and 
left  her.  A  little  way  from  her  he  halted,  with  a  sud- 
den perception  of  mysterious  punishment,  shrugged, 
sat  down,  and  tried  to  reach  the  irksorrre  grass- 
wisp  with  his  teeth.  This  failing,  he  rolled  labori- 
ously in  the  dirt. 

Then  he  rose,  cast  a  reproachful  glance  behind 
him,  and  trotted  off. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MAD    ANTHONY 

BEYOND  the  selvage  of  the  sleepy  leaf-shel- 
tered village  a  cherry  bordered  lane  met  the 
Red  Road.  On  its  one  side  was  a  clovered  pasture 
and  beyond  this  an  orchard,  bounded  by  a  tall  hedge 
of  close-clipped  box  which  separated  it  from  a 
broad  yard  where  the  gray-weathered  roof  of 
Rosewood  showed  above  a  group  of  tulip  and 
catalpa  trees.  Viewed  nearer,  the  low  stone  house, 
with  its  huge  overhanging  eaves,  would  have  looked 
like  a  small  boy  with  his  father's  hat  on  but  for  the 
trellises  of  climbing  roses  that  covered  two  sides 
and  overflowed  here  and  there  on  long  arbors, 
flecking  the  dull  brown  stone  with  a  glorious  crim- 
son, like  a  warrior's  blood.  On  the  sunny  steps  a 
lop-eared  hound  puppy  was  playing  with  a  mottled 
cat. 

The  front  door  was  open,  showing  a  hall  where 
stood  a  grandfather's  clock  and  a  spindle-legged 
table  holding  a  bowl  of  potpourri.  The  timepiece 
had  landed  from  a  sailing  vessel  at  Jamestown 
wharf  with  the  household  goods  of  that  English 
Garland  who  had  adopted  the  old  Middle  Planta- 

59 


60        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

tion  when  Dunmore  was  royal  governor  under 
George  III.  Framed  portraits  and  engravings  lent 
tints  of  tarnished  silver,  old-rose  and  sunset-golds 
—  colors  time-toned  and  reminiscent,  carrying  a 
charming  sense  of  peaceful  content,  of  gentleness 
and  long  tradition.  The  dark  polished  stairway 
had  at  its  turn  a  square  dormer-window  which 
looked  out  upon  one  of  the  rose-arbors. 

Down  this  stair,  somewhat  later  that  afternoon, 
came  Shirley  Dandridge,  booted  and  spurred,  the 
rebellious  whorls  of  her  russet  hair  now  as  closely 
filleted  as  a  Greek  boy's,  in  a  short  divided  skirt  of 
yew-green  and  a  cool  white  blouse  and  swinging  by 
its  ribbon  a  green  hat  whose  rolling  brim  was  caught 
up  at  one  side  by  a  crisp  blue-black  hawk's  feather. 
She  stopped  to  peer  out  of  the  dormer-window  to 
where,  under  the  latticed  weave  of  bloom,  beside  a 
round  iron  table  holding  a  hoop  of  embroidery  and  a 
book  or  two,  a  lady  sat  reading. 

The  lady's  hair  was  silver,  but  not  with  age.  It 
had  been  so  for  many  years, -refuted  by  the  trans- 
parent skin  and  a  color  as  soft  as  the  cheek  of  an 
apricot.  It  was  solely  in  her  dark  eyes,  deep  and 
strangely  luminous,  that  one  might  see  lurking  the 
somber  spirit  of  passion  and  of  pain.  But  they  were 
eager  and  brilliant  withal,  giving  the  lie  to  the  cane 
whose  crook  one  pale  delicate  hand  held  with  a 
clasp  that  somehow  conveyed  a  sense  of  exas- 
perate if  semi-humorous  rebellion.  She  wore 


MAD  ANTHONY  6* 

nun's  gray;  soft  old  lace  was  at  her  wrists  and 
throat,  and  she  was  knitting  a  scarlet  silk  stocking. 

She  looked  up  at  Shirley's  voice,  and  smiled 
brightly.  "  Off  for  your  ride,  dear?  " 

"  Yes.     I'm  going  with  the  Chalmers." 

"  Oh,  of  course.  Betty  Page  is  visiting  them, 
isn't  she?" 

Shirley  nodded.  "  She  came  yesterday.  I'll, 
have  to  hurry,  for  I  saw  them  from  my  window 
turning  into  the  Red  Road."  She  waved  her  hand 
and  ran  lightly  down  the  stair  and  across  the  lawn 
to  the  orchard. 

She  pulled  a  green  apple  from  a  bough  that  hung 
over  a  stone  wall  and  with  this  in  her  hand  she 
came  close  to  the  pasture  fence  and  whistled  a  pe- 
culiar call.  It  was  answered  by  a  low  whinny  and 
a  soft  thud  of  hoofs,  and  a  golden-chestnut  hunter 
thrust  a  long  nose  over  the  bars,  flaring  flame-lined 
nostrils  to  the  touch  of  her  hand.  She  laid  her 
cheek  against  the  white  thoroughbred  forehead  and 
held  the  apple  to  the  eager  reaching  lip,  with  sev- 
eral teasing  withdrawings  before  she  gave  it  to  its 
juicy  crunching. 

"  No,  Selim,"  she  said  as  the  wide  nostrils  snuf- 
fled over  her  shoulder,  the  begging  breath  blowing 
warm  against  her  neck.  "  No  more  —  and  no  sugar 
to-day.  Sugar  has  gone  up  two  cents  a  pound." 

She  let  down  the  top  bar  of  the  fence  and  vaulting 
over,  ran  to  a  stable  and  presently  emerging  with 


62         THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

a  saddle  on  her  arm,  whistled  the  horse  to  her  and 
saddled  him.  Then  opening  the  gate,  she  mounted 
and  cantered  down  the  lane  to  meet  the  oncoming 
riders  —  a  kindly- faced,  middle-aged  man,  a 
younger  one  with  dark  features  and  coal-black  hair, 
and  two  girls. 

Chisholm  Lusk  spurred  in  advance  and  lifted  his 
hat.  "  I  held  up  the  judge,  Shirley,"  he  said,  "  and 
made  him  bring  me  along.  He  tells  me  there's  a 
fox-hunt  on  to-morrow ;  may  I  come  ?  " 

"  Pshaw !  Chilly,"  said  the  judge.  "  I  don't  be- 
lieve you  ever  got  up  at  five  o'clock  in  your  born 
days.  You've  learned  bad  habits  abroad." 

"  You'll  see,"  he  answered.  "If  my  man  Fri- 
day doesn't  rout  me  out  to-morrow,  I'll  be  up  for 
murder." 

They  rode  an  hour,  along  stretches  of  sunny  high- 
ways or  on  shaded  bridle-paths  where  the  horses' 
hoofs  fell  muffled  in  brown  pine-needles  and  droop- 
ing branches  flicked  their  faces.  Then,  by  a  murky 
way  gouged  with  brusk  gullies,  across  shelving 
fields  and  "  turn-rows  "  in  a  long  detour  around 
Powhattan  Mountain,  a  rough  spur  in  the  shape  of 
an  Indian's  head  that  wedged  itself  forbiddingly 
between  the  fields  of  springing  corn  and  tobacco. 
They  approached  the  Red  Road  again  by  a  crazy 
bridge  whose  adze-hewn  flooring  was  held  in  place 
by  wild  grape-vines  and  weighted  down  against 
cloudburst  and  freshet  by  heavy  boulders  till  it 


MAD  ANTHONY  63 

dipped  its  middle  like  an  overloaded  buckboard 
in  the  yellow  waters  of  the  sluggish  stream  beneath. 
On  the  farther  side  they  pulled  down  to  breathe 
their  horses.  Here  the  road  was  like  a  narrow 
ruler  dividing  a  desert  from  a  promised  land. 
On  one  hand  a  guttered  slope  of  marl  and  pebbles 
covered  with  a  tatterdemalion  forest  —  on  the  other 
acre  upon  acre  of  burnished  grain. 

"  Ah  never  saw  such  a  f rowsley-looking  thing  in 
mah  life,"  said  Betty  Page,  in  her  soft  South  Caro- 
linian drawl  that  was  all  vowels  and  liquids,  "  as 
that  wild  hill  beside  those  fields.  For  all  the  world 
like  a  disgraceful  tramp  leering  across  the  wall  at  a 
dandy." 

Shirley  applauded  the  simile,  and  the  judge  said, 
"  This  is  a  boundary.  That  hobo-landscape  is  part 
of  the  deserted  Valiant  estate.  The  hill  hides  the 
house." 

She  nodded.  "  Damory  Court  It's  still  vacant, 
Ah  suppose." 

"  Yes,  and  likely  to  be.  Valiant  is  dead  long  ago, 
but  apparently  there's  never  been  any  attempt  to 
let  it.  I  suppose  his  son  is  so  rich  that  one  estate 
more  or  less  doesn't  figure  much  to  him." 

"  I  got  a  letter  this  morning  from  Dorothy  Ran- 
dolph," said  Shirley.  "  The  Valiant  Corporation  is 
being  investigated,  you  know,  and  her  uncle  had 
taken  her  to  one  of  the  hearings,  when  John  Valiant 
was  in  the  chair.  From  her  description,  they  are 


64        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

making  it  sufficiently  hot  for  that  silver-spooned 
young  man." 

"  I  don't  reckon  he  cares,"  said  Lusk  satirically. 
"  Nothing  matters  with  his  set  if  you  have  enough 
money." 

The  judge  pointed  with  his  crop.  "That  nar- 
row wagon-track/*  he  said,  "  goes  to  Heirs-Half- 
Acre." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Betty.  "  That's  that  weird  set- 
tlement on  the  Dome  where  Shirley's  little  protegee 
Rickey  Snyder  came  from."  It  was  all  she  said, 
but  her  glance  at  the  girl  beside  her  was  one  of 
open  admiration.  For,  as  all  in  the  party  knew, 
the  lonely  road  had  been  connected  with  an  act  of 
sheer  impulsive  daring  in  Shirley's  girlhood  that  she 
would  never  hear  spoken  of. 

Judge  Chalmers  flicked  his  horse's  ears  gently 
with  his  rein  and  they  moved  slowly  on,  presently 
coming  in  sight  of  a  humble  patch  of  ground,  en- 
closed in  a  worm-fence  and  holding  a  white- 
washed cabin  with  a  well  shaded  by  varicolored 
hollyhocks.  Under  the  eaves  clambered  a  gourd- 
vine,  beneath  which  dangled  strings  of  onions  and 
bright  red  peppers.  "  Do  let  us  get  a  drink!  "  said 
Chilly  Lusk.  "  I'm  as  thirsty  as  a  cotton-batting 
camel." 

"  All  right,  we'll  stop,"  agreed  the  judge,  "  and 
you'll  have  a  chance  to  see  another  local  lion,  Betty. 
This  is  where  Mad  Anthony  lives.  You  must 


MAD  ANTHONY  65 

have  heard  of  him  when  you  were  here  before. 
He's  almost  as  celebrated  as  the  Reverend  John  Jas- 
per of  Richmond." 

Betty  tapped  her  temple.  "  Where  have  Ah 
heard  of  John  Jasper?  " 

"  He  was  the  author  of  the  famous  sermon  on 
The  Sun  do  Move.  He  used  to  prove  it  by  a 
bucket  of  water  that  he  set  beside  his  pulpit  Satur- 
day night.  As  it  hadn't  spilled  in  the  morning  he 
knew  it  was  the  earth  that  stood  still." 

Betty  nodded  laughingly.  "  Ah  remember  now. 
He's  the  one  who  said  there  were  only  four  great 
races :  the  Huguenots,  the  Hottentots,  the  Abyssin- 
ians  and  the  Virginians.  Is  Mad  Anthony  really 
mad?" 

"Only  harmlessly,"  said  Shirley.  "He's  stone 
blind.  The  negroes  all  believe  he  conjures  —  that's 
voodoo,  you  know.  They  put  a  lot  of  stock  in  his 
'  prophecisms/  He  tells  fortunes,  too.  S-sh !  "  she 
warned.  "  He's  sitting  on  the  door-step.  He's 
heard  us." 

The  old  negro  had  the  torso  of  a  black  patriarch. 
He  sat  bolt  upright  with  long  straight  arms  rest- 
ing on  his  knees,  and  his  face  had  that  peculiar 
expressionless  immobility  seen  in  Egyptian  carv- 
ings. He  had  slightly  turned  his  head  in  their  di- 
rection, his  brow,  under  its  shock  of  perfectly  white 
crinkly  hair,  twitching  with  a  peculiar  expression 
of  inquiry.  His  age  might  have  been  anything 


66        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

judging  from  his  face  which  was  so  seamed  and 
creviced  with  innumerable  tiny  wrinkles  that  it  most 
resembled  the  tortured  glaze  of  some  ancient  bitu- 
men pottery  unearthed  from  a  tomb  of  Kor.  Un- 
der their  heavy  lids  his  sightless  eyeballs,  whitely 
opaque  and  lusterless,  turned  mutely  toward  the 
sound  of  the  horse  hoofs. 

The  judge  dismounted,  and  tossing  his  bridle 
over  a  fence-picket,  took  from  his  pocket  a  col- 
lapsible drinking  cup.  "  Howdy  do,  Anthony,"  he 
said.  "  We  just  stopped  for  a  drink  of  your  good 
water/' 

The  old  negro  nodded  his  head.  "  Good  watah," 
he  said  in  the  gentle  quavering  tones  of  extreme 
age.  "  Yas,  Mars'.  He'p  yo'se'f.  Come  f'om  de 
centah  ob  de  yerf,  dat  watah.  En  dah's  folks  say 
de  centah  of  de  yerf  is  all  fiah.  Yo'  reck'n  dey's 
right,  Mars'  Chahmahs?" 

"  Now,  how  the  devil  do  you  know  who  I  am, 
Anthony?"  The  judge  set  down  his  cup  on  the 
well-curb.  "  I  haven't  been  by  here  for  a  year." 

The  ebony  head  moved  slowly  from  side  to  side. 
"  Ol'  Ant'ny  don'  need  no  eyes,"  he  said,  touching 
his  hand  to  his  brow.  "  He  see  ev'ything  heah." 

The  judge  beckoned  to  the  others  and  they 
trooped  inside  the  paling.  "  I've  brought  some 
other  folks  with  me,  Anthony ;  can  you  tell  who  they 
are?" 

The  sightless  look  wavered  over  them  and  the 


MAD  ANTHONY  67 

white  head  shook  slowly.  "  Donl  know  young 
mars/,"  said  the  gentle  voice.  "  How  many  yud- 
dahs  wid  yo'?  One,  two?  No,  don'  know  young 
mistis,  eidah." 

"  I  reckon  you  don't  need  any  eyes,"  Judge  Chal- 
mers laughed,  as  he  passed  the  sweet  cold  water 
to  the  rest.  "  One  of  these  young  ladies  wants  yom 
to  tell  her  fortune." 

The  old  negro  dropped  his  head,  waving  his  gaunt 
hands  restlessly.  Then  his  gaze  lifted  and  the 
whitened  eyeballs  roved  painfully  about  as  if  in 
search  of  something  elusive.  The  judge  beckoned 
to  Betty  Page,  but  she  shook  her  head  with  a  little 
grimace  and  drew  back. 

"  You  go,  Shirley,"  she  whispered,  and  with  a 
laughing  glance  at  the  others,  Shirley  came  and 
sat  down  on  the  lowest  step. 

Mad  Anthony  put  out  a  wavering  hand  and 
touched  the  young  body.  His  fingers  strayed  over 
the  habit  and  went  up  to  the  curling  bronze  under 
the  hat-brim.  "  Dis  de  li'l  mistis,"  he  muttered, 
"  am'  afeahd  ob  ol'  Ant'ny.  Dah's  fiah  en  she  ain' 
afeahd,  en  dah's  watah  en  she  ain'  afeahd.  Wondah 
whut  Ah  gwine  tell  huh?  Whut  de  coloh  ob  yo' 
haih,  honey  ?  " 

"  Black,"  put  in  Chilly  Lusk,  with  a  wink  at  the 
others.  "  Black  as  a  crow." 

Old  Anthony's  hand  fell  back  to  his  knee. 
"  Young  mars'  laugh  at  de  ol'  man,"  he  said,  "  but 


68        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

he  don'  know.  Dat  de  coloh  dat  buhn  mah  han's  — 
de  coloh  ob  gol',  en  eyes  blue  like  er  cat-bird's  aig. 
Dah's  er  man  gwine  look  in  dem  eyes,  honey,  en 
gwine  make  'em  cry  en  cry."  He  raised  his  head 
sharply,  his  lids  shut  tight,  and  swung  his  arm  to- 
ward the  North.  "  Dah's  whah  he  come  f  om,"  he 
said,  "  en  heah  " —  his  arm  veered  and  he  pointed 
straight  toward  the  ragged  hill  behind  them  — "  he 
stay." 

Lusk  laughed  noiselessly.  "  He's  pointing  to 
Damory  Court,"  he  whispered  to  Nancy  Chalmers, 
*'  the  only  uninhabited  place  within  ten  miles. 
That's  as  near  as  he  often  hits  it,  I  fancy." 

"  Heah's  whah  he  stay,"  repeated  the  old  man. 
"  Heap  ob  trouble  wait  heah  fo'  him  too,  honey, — 
heap  ob  trouble,  heah  whah  li'l  mistis  fin'  him." 
His  voice  dropped  to  a  monotone,  and  he  began  to 
rock  gently  to  and  fro  as  if  he  were  crooning  a 
lullaby.  "  Li'l  trouble  en  gr'et  trouble !  Fo'  dah's 
fiah  en  she  ain'  afeahd,  en  dah's  watah  en  she  ain' 
afeahd.  It's  de  thing  whut  eat  de  ha'at  outen  de 
breas' —  dat  whut  she  afeahd  of !  " 

"  Come,  Anthony,"  said  Judge  Chalmers,  laying 
his  hand  on  the  old  man's  shoulder.  "  That's  much 
too  mournful !  Give  her  something  nice  to  top  off 
with,  at  least!  " 

But  Anthony  paid  no  heed,  continuing  his  rock- 
ing and  his  muttering.  "  Gr'et  trouble.  DaVJs  fiah 
en  she  ain'  afeahd,  en  dah's  watah  en  she  ain' 


MAD  ANTHONY  69 

afeahd.  En  Ah  sees  yo'  gwine  te-r  him,  honey. 
Ah  heah's  de  co'ot-house  clock  a-strikin'  in  de 
night  —  en  yo'  gwine.  Don'  wait,  don'  wait,  li'l 
mistis,  er  de  trouble-cloud  gwine  kyah  him  erway 
f'om  yo'.  .  .  .  When  de  clock  strike  thuhteen  — 
when  de  clock  strike  thuhteen  — " 

The  droning  voice  ceased.  The  gaunt  form  be- 
came rigid.  Then  he  started  and  turned  his  eyes 
slowly  about  him,  a  vague  look  of  anxiety  on  his 
face.  For  a  moment  no  one  moved.  When  he 
spoke  again  it  was  once  more  in  his  gentle  quaver- 
ing voice: 

"  Watah?  Yas,  Mars',  good  watah.  He'p  yo'- 
se'f." 

The  judge  set  a  dollar  bill  on  the  step  and 
weighted  it  with  a  stone,  as  the  rest  remounted. 
"Well,  good-by,  Anthony,"  he  said.  "We're 
mightily  obliged." 

He  sprang  into  the  saddle  and  the  quartette  can- 
tered away.  "  My  experiment  wasn't  a  great  suc- 
cess, I'm  afraid,  Shirley,"  he  said  ruefully. 

"  Oh,  I  think  it  was  splendid ! "  cried  Nancy. 
"  Do  you  suppose  he  really  believes  those  spooky 
things?  I  declare,  at  the  time  I  almost  did  myself. 
What  an  odd  idea  — *  when  the  clock  strikes  thir- 
teen,' which,  of  course,  it  never  does." 

"  Don't  mind,  Shirley,"  bantered  Lusk.  "  When 
you  see  all  '  dem  troubles '  coming,  sound  the  alarm 
and  we'll  fly  in  a  body  to  your  rescue." 


70        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

They  let  their  horses  out  for  a  pounding  gallop 
which  pulled  down  suddenly  at  a  muffled  shriek 
from  Betty  Page,  as  her  horse  went  into  the  air  at 
sight  of  an  automobile  by  the  roadside. 

"  Now,  whose  under  the  canopy  is  that?"  ex- 
claimed Lusk. 

"  It's  stalled,"  said  Shirley.  "  I  passed  here  this 
afternoon  when  the  owner  was  trying  to  start  it, 
and  I  sent  Unc'  Jefferson  as  first  aid  to  the  in- 
jured." 

"  I  wonder  who  he  can  be,"  said  Nancy.  "  I've 
never  seen  that  car  before." 

"  Why,"  said  Betty  giily,  "  Ah  know !  It's  Mad 
Anthony's  trouble-man,  of  course,  come  for  Shir- 
ley." 


CHAPTER  IX 

UNCLE   JEFFERSON 

A  RED  rose,  while  ever  a  thing  of  beauty,  is 
not  invariably  a  joy  forever.  The  white 
bulldog,  as  he  plodded  along  the  sunny  highway, 
was  sunk  in  depression.  Being  trammeled  by  the 
limitations  of  a  canine  horizon,  he  could  not  under- 
stand the  whims  of  Adorable  Ones  met  by  the  way, 
who  seemed  so  glad  to  see  him  that  they  threw  both 
arms  about  him,  and  then  tied  to  his  neck  irksome 
colored  weeds  that  prickled  and  scratched  and 
would  not  be  dislodged.  Lacking  a  basis  of  pain- 
ful comparison,  since  he  had  never  had  a  tin  can 
tied  to  his  tail,  he  accepted  it  as  condign  punishment 
and  was  puzzledly  wretched.  So  it  was  a  chas- 
tened and  shamed  Chum  who  at  length  wriggled 
stealthily  into  the  seat  of  the  stranded  automobile 
beside  his  master  and  thrust  a  dirty  pink  nose  into 
his  palm. 

John  Valiant  lifted  his  hand  to  stroke  the  shapely 
head,  then  drew  it  back  with  an  exclamation.  A 
thorn  had  pricked  his  thumb.  He  looked  down  and 
saw  the  draggled  flower  thrust  through  the  twist 


72        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

of  grass.  "  Oh,  pup  of  wonders !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Where  did  you  get  that  rose  ?  " 

Chum  sat  up  and  wagged  his  tail,  for  his  mas- 
ter's tone,  instead  of  ridicule,  held  a  dawning  de- 
light. Perhaps  the  thing  had  not  been  intended  as 
a  disgrace  after  all !  As  the  careful  hand  drew  the 
misused  blossom  tenderly  from  its  tether,  he  barked 
joyously  with  recovered  spirits. 

With  the  first  sight  of  the  decoration  Valiant  had 
had  a  sudden  memory  of  a  splotch  of  vivid  red 
against  the  belted  gray-blue  of  a  gown.  He  grinned 
appreciatively.  "  And  I  warned  her,"  he  chuckled. 
"  Told  her  not  to  be  afraid !  "  He  dusted  the  blos- 
som painstakingly  with  his  handkerchief  and  held 
it  to  his  face  —  a  live  brilliant  thing,  breathing 
musk-odors  of  the  mid-moon  of  paradise. 

A  long  time  he  sat,  while  the  dog  dozed  and 
yawned  on  the  shiny  cushion  beside  him.  Grad- 
ually the  clover-breeze  fainted  and  the  lengthening 
shadows  dipped  their  fingers  into  indigo.  On  the 
far  amethystine  peaks  of  the  Blue  Ridge  leaned 
milky-breasted  clouds  through  which  the  sun  sifted 
in  wide  bars.  A  blackbird  began  to  flute  from  some 
near-by  tree  and  across  the  low  stone  wall  he  heard 
a  feathery  whir.  Of  a  sudden  Chum  sat  up  and 
barked  in  earnest. 

Turning  his  head,  his  master  saw  approaching  a 
dilapidated  hack  with  side-lanterns  like  great 
goggles  and  decrepit  and  palsied  curtains.  It  was 


UNCLE  JEFFERSON  73 

drawn  by  a  lean  mustard-tinted  mult,  and  on  its 
front  seat  sat  a  colored  man  of  uncertain  age,  whose 
hunched  vertebrae  and  outward-crooked  arms  gave 
him  a  curious  expression  of  replete  and  bulbous  in- 
quiry. Abreast  of  the  car  he  removed  a  moth-eaten 
cap. 

"  Evening  suh,"  he  said, — "  evenin',  evenin'." 

"  Howdy  do,"  returned  the  other  amiably. 

"Ah  reck'n  yo'-all  done  had  er  breck-down  wid 
dat  machine-thing  dar.  Spec'  er  graveyahd  rab- 
bit done  cross  yo'  pahf.  Yo'  been  hyuh  'bout  er 
hour,  ain'  yo'  ?  " 

"Nearer  three,"  said  Valiant  cheerfully,  "but 
the  view's  worth  it." 

A  hoarse  titter  came  from  the  conveyance,  which 
gave  forth  sundry  creakings  of  leather.  "  Huyh ! 
Huyh !  Dat's  so,  suh.  Dat's  so !  Hm-m.  Reck'n 
Ah'll  be  gittin'  erlong  back."  He  clucked  to  the 
mule  and  proceeded  to  turn  the  vehicle  round. 

"  Hold  on,"  cried  John  Valiant.  "  I  thought  you 
were  bound  in  the  other  direction." 

"  No,  suh.  Ah'm  gwihe  back  whah  I  come 
f 'om.  Ah  jus'  druv  out  hyuh  'case  Miss  '  Shirley 
done  met  me,  en  she  say,  *  Unc'  Jeffe'son,  yo'  go 
'treckly  out  de  Red  Road,  'case  er  gemman  done  got 
stalled-ed.'  " 

"Oh  — Miss  Shirley.  She  told  you,  did  she? 
What  did  you  say  her  first  name  was  ?  " 

"  Dat's  huh  fust  name,  Miss  Shirley.     Yas,  suh! 


74        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

Miss  Shirley  done  said  f  me  ter  come  en  git  de  gem- 
man  whut  —  whut  kinder  dawg  is  yo'  got  dar  ?  " 

"It's  a  bulldog.  Can  you  give  me  a  lift?  I've 
got  that  small  trunk  and — " 

"  Dat's  a  right  fine  dawg.  Miss  Shirley  she 
moghty  fond  ob  dawgs,  too." 

"Fond  of  dogs,  is  she?"  said  Valiant.  "I 
might  have  known  it.  It  was  nice  of  her  to  send 
you  here,  Uncle  Jefferson.  You  can  take  me  and 
my  traps,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Tens  on  whah  yo'  gwineter,"  answered  Uncle 
Jefferson  sapiently. 

"  I'm  going  to  Damory  Court." 
•  A  kind  of  shocked  surprise  that  was  almost  stupe- 
faction spread  over  the  other's  face,  like  oil  over 
a  pool.  "Dam'ry  Co'ot!  Dat's  de  old  Valiant 
place.  Am'  nobody  lives  dar.  Ah  reck'n  am'  no- 
body live  dar  fer  mos'  er  hun'erd  yeahs !  " 

"  The  old  house  has  a  great  surprise  coming  to 
it,"  said  Valiant  gravely.  "  Henceforth  some  one 
is  going  to  occupy  it.  How  far  is  it  away  ?  " 

"  Measurin'  by  de  coonskin  en  th'owin'  in  de  tail, 
et's  erbout  two  mile.  Ain'  gwineter  live  dar  yo'se'f, 
suh,  is  yo'  ?  " 

"  I  am  for  the  present,"  was  the  crisp  answer. 

Uncle  Jefferson  stared  at  him  a  moment  with  his 
mouth  open.  Then  ejaculating  under  his  breath, 
"  Fo'  de  Lawd!  Whut  folks  gwineter  say  ter  dat !  " 


UNCLE  JEFFERSON  75 

he  shambled  to  the  rear  of  the  motor' and  began  to 
unship  the  steamer-trunk. 

"  By  the  way," — John  Valiant  paused,  with  the 
portmanteau  in  his  hands, — "  what  do  you  ask  for 
the  job?" 

The  owner  of  the  hack  scratched  his  grizzled 
head.  "  Ah  gen'ly  chahges  er  quahtah  er  trunk 
f'um  de  deepo'  les'n  et's  one  ob  dem  ar  rich  folks 
f om  up  Norf." 

"  I  don't  happen  to  be  rich,  so  we'll  make  it  a 
dollar.  What  makes  you  think  I'm  from  the 
North?" 

Again  the  aguish  mirth  agitated  the  other,  as  he 
put  aboard  a  hamper  and.  one  of  the  motor's  lamps, 
which  Valiant  added  as  an  afterthought.  "  Ah 
knows  et,"  he  said  ingenuously,  "  but  Ah  don'  know 
why.  Ah'll  jes'  twis'  er  rope  eroun'  yo'  trunk. 
Whut  yo'  gwineter  do  wid  dat-ar  ?  "  he  asked,  point- 
ing to  the  car.  "  Ah  kin  come  wid  ole  Sukey  — 
dat's  mah  mule  —  en  fotch  it  in  in  de  mawnin'. 
Am'  gwineter  rain  ter-night  nohow." — 

This  matter  having  been  arranged,  they  started 
jogging  down  the  green-bordered  road,  the  bulldog 
prospecting  alongside.  A  meadow-lark  soared 
somewhere  in  the  overarching  blue,  dropping 
golden  notes;  dusty  bumble-bees  boomed  hither  and 
thither;  genial  crickets  tuned  their  fiddles  in  the 
"  tickle-grass "  and  a  hawking  dragon-fly  paused 


76        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

for  an  impudent  siesta  between  the  mule's  gyrating 
ears. 

"  S'pose'n  de  Co'ot  done  ben  sold  en  yo'  gwineter 
fix  it  up  fo'  de  new  ownah,"  hazarded  Uncle  Jef- 
ferson presently. 

Valiant  did  not  answer  directly.  "  You  say  the 
place  hasn't  been  occupied  for  many  years,"  he  ob- 
served. "  Did  you  ever  hear  why,  Uncle  Jeffer- 
son ?" 

"  Ah  done  heerd"  said  the  other  vaguely,  "  but 
Ah  disremembahs.  Sump'in  dat  happened  befo'  Ah 
come  heah  f'om  ol'  Post-Oak  Plantation.  Reck'n 
Majah  Bristow  he  know  erbout  it,  er  Mis'  Judith 
—  dat's  Miss  Shirley's  mothah.  Her  fathah  wus 
Gen'l  Tawm  Dandridge,  en  he  died  fo'  she  wus 
bawn." 

Shirley  Dandridge!  A  high-sounding  name, 
with  something  of  long-linked  culture,  of  arrogant 
heritage.  In  some  subtle  way  it  seemed  to  clothe 
the  personality  of  which  Valiant  had  had  that  fleet- 
ing roadside  glimpse. 

Uncle  Jefferson  stared  meditatively  skyward 
whence  dropped  the  bubbling  lark  song.  "  Dat-ar 
buhd  kin  sing! "  he  said.  "  Queeh  dat  folkses  cyan' 
do  dat,  dey  so  moughty  much  smahtah.  Nevah 
knowed  nobody  could,  dough,  cep'n  on'y  Miss 
Shirley.  Tain'  er  buhd  nowhah  in  de  fiel's  dat  she 
cyan'  mock." 

"  You  mean  she  knows  their  calls  ?  " 


UNCLE  JEFFERSON  77 

"  Yas,  suh,  ev'y  soun',  Done  fool  me  heap  er 
times.  Dah's  de  cook's  li'l  boy  et  Rosewood  dat 
wuz  sick  las'  summah,  en  he  listen  ev'y  day  ter  de 
mockin'-buhd  dat  nes'  in  one  ob  de  tulip-trees.  He 
jes'  love  dat  buhd  next  ter  he  mammy,  en  when  et 
come  fall  en  et  don*  come  no  mo',  he  ha'at  mos' 
broke.  He  jes'  lay  en  cry  en  git  right  smaht  wus- 
sur.  Et  las'  seems  lak  de  li'l  boy  gwine  die. 
When  Mis'  Shirley  heah  dat,  she  try  en  try  till 
she  jes'  git  dat  buhd's  song  ez  pat  ez  de  Lawd's 
Prayah,  en  one  evenin'  she  gwine  en  say  ter  he  mam- 
my ter  tell  him  he  mockin'-buhd  done  come  back,  en 
he  mammy  she  bundle  him  all  up  in  de  quilt  en 
open  de  winder,  en  sho'  miff,  dah's  Mistah  Mockin'- 
buhd  behin'  de  bushes,  jes'  bus'in'  hisse'f.  Well, 
suh,  seems  lak  dat  chile  hang  on  ter  living  jes'  ter 
heah  dat  buhd,  en  ev'y  evenin',  way  till  when  de 
snow  on  de  groun',  Mis'  Shirley  she  hide  out  in 
de  trees  en  sing  en  sing  till  de  po'  li'l  feller  gwine 
ter  sleep." 

Valiant  leaned  forward,  for  Uncle  Jefferson  had 
paused.  "  Did  the  child  get  well  ? "  he  asked 
eagerly. 

The  old  man  clucked  to  the  leisurely  mule. 
"Yas,  sjth!"  he  said.  "He  done  git  well.  He 
'bout  de  on'riest  young'un  roun'  heah  now ! 

"  Reck'n  yo'-all  come  f 'om  New  York  ?  "  inquired 
Uncle  Jefferson,  after  a  little  silence.  "  So !  Dey 
say  dat's  er  pow'ful  big  place.  But  Ah  reck'n  ol? 


78        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

Richmon's  big  ernuf  fo'  me."  He  clucked  to  the 
leisurely  mule  and  added,  "Ah  bin  ter  Richmon' 
onct.  Yas,  suh!  Ah  nevah  see  sech  houses  —  mos' 
all  bigger'n  de  county  co'ot-house." 

John  Valiant  expressed  a  somewhat  absent  inter- 
est. He  was  looking  thoughtfully  at  the  blossom 
in  his  hand,  in  an  absorption  through  which  Uncle 
Jefferson's  reminiscences  oozed  on: 

"  Mos'  cur'ousest  thing  wus  how  e'vybody  dar 
seem  ter  know  e'vybody  else.  Dey  got  street-kyahs 
dar,  no  hoss  en  no  mule,  jes'  shoot  up  de  hill  en 
down  ergen,  lak  de  debble  skinnin'  tan-bahk. 
Well,  suh,  Ah  got  on  er  kyah  en  gib  de  man  whnt 
stan'  on  de  flatfawm  er  nickel,  en  Ah  set  dar  lookirr* 
outen  de  win'ow,  till  de  man  he  call  out  '  Adams/ 
en  er  gemman  whut  wah  sittin'  ercross  f'om  me, 
he  git  up  en  git  off.  De  kyah  start  ergen  en  de 
nex  co'nah  dat  ar  man  on  de  flatfawm  he  yell  out 
'  Monroe/  En  Mistah  Monroe,  he  was  sittin'  tip 
at  de  end,  en  he  jump  up  en  git  off.  Den  de  kyah 
took  anuddah  staht,  en  bress  mah  soul,  dat  ar  man 
on  de  flatfawm  he  hollah  '  Jeff  e' son ! '  Ah  clah' 
ter  goodness,  suh,  Ah  nebbah  skeered  so  bad  en 
mah  life.  How  dat  man  know  me,  suh?  Well, 
suh,  Ah  jump  up  lak  Ah  be'n  shot,  en  Ah  says,  '  Fo' 
de  lawd,  boss,  Ah  wa'n't  gwineter  git  off  at  dis  co'- 
nah, but  ef  yo'  says  so,  Ah  reck'n  Ah  got  ter ! '  So 
Ah  git  off  en  Ah  walk  erbout  fo'  miles  back  ter  de 
tfeepo!" 


UNCLE  JEFFERSON  79 

Uncle  Jefferson's  inward  and  volcanic  amuse- 
ment shook  his  passenger  from  his  reverie.  "  En 
dat  ar  wa'n't  de  wust.  When  Ah  got  ter  de  deepo, 
Ah  didn'  have  mah  pocketbook.  Er  burglar  had 
'scaped  off  wid  it  en  lef '  me  es  nickelless  ez  er  con- 


vie'." 


CHAPTER  X 

WHAT    HAPPENED   THIRTY    YEARS   AGO 

WHEN  Shirley  came  across  the  lawn  at  Rose- 
wood, Major  Montague  Bristow  sat  under 
the  arbor  talking  to  her  mother. 

The  major  was  massive-framed,  with  a  strong 
jaw  and  a  rubicund  complexion  —  the  sort  that 
might  be  supposed  to  have  attained  the  utmost  bene- 
fit to  be  conferred  by  a  consistent  indulgence  in 
mint-juleps.  His  blue  eyes  were  piercing  and 
arched  with  brows  like  sable  rainbows,  at  variance 
with  his  heavy  iron-gray  hair  and  imperial.  His 
head  was  leonine  and  he  looked  like  a  king  who 
has  humbled  his  enemy.  It  may  be  added  that  his 
linen  was  fine  and  immaculate,  his  black  string-tie 
precisely  tied  and  a  pair  of  gold-rimmed  eye-glasses 
swung  by  a  flat  black  cord  against  his  white  waist- 
coat. There  was  a  touch  of  the  military  in  the 
squareness  of  shoulder  and  the  lift  of  the  rugged 
head,  no  less  than  in  the  gallant  little  bow  with 
which  he  rose  to  greet  the  girl  coming  toward  them. 

"  Shirley,"  said  her  mother,  "  the  major's  bru- 
tal, and  he  shan't  have  his  mint-julep." 

80 


THIRTY  YEARS  AGO  81 

"  What  lias  he  been  doing?  "  asked  -the  other,  her 
brows  wrinkling  in  a  delightful  way  she  had. 

"  He  has  reminded  me  that  I'm  growing  old." 

Shirley  looked  at  the  major  skeptically,  for  his 
chivalry  was  undoubted.  During  a  long  career  in 
law  and  legislature  it  had  been  said  of  him  that  he 
could  neither  speak  on  the  tariff  question  nor  de- 
fend a  man  for  murder,  without  first  paying  a  trib- 
ute to  "  the  women  of  the  South,  sah." 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort,"  he  rumbled. 

Mrs.  Dandridge's  face  softened  to  wistfulness. 
"Shirley,  am  I?"  she  asked,  with  a  quizzical,  al- 
most a  droll  uneasiness.  "  Why,  I've  got  every 
emotion  I've  ever  had.  I  read  all  the  new  French 
novels,  and  I'm  even  thinking  of  going  in  for  the 
militant  suffragette  movement." 

The  girl  had  tossed  her  hat  and  crop  on  the  table 
and  seated  herself  by  her  mother's  chair.  Now 
reaching  down,  she  drew  one  of  the  fragile  blue- 
veined  hands  up  against  her  cheek,  her  bronze  hair, 
its  heavy  coil  loosened,  dropping  over  one  shoulder 
like  sunlit  seaweed.  "  What  was  it  he  said,  dear- 
est?" 

"  He  thinks  I  ought  to  wear  a  worsted  shawl 
and  arctics."  Her  mother  thrust  out  one  little  thin- 
slippered  foot,  with  its  slender  ankle  gleaming 
through  its  open-work  stocking  like  mother-of- 
pearl.  "  Imagine !  In  May.  And  he  knows  I'm 
vain  of  my  feet!  Major,  if  you  had  ever  had  a 


82        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

wife,  you  would  have  learned  wisdom.  But  you 
mean  well,  and  I'll  take  back  what  I  said  about  the 
julep.  You  mix  it,  Shirley.  Yours  is  even  bet- 
ter than  Ranston's." 

"  She  makes  me  one  every  day,  Monty,"  she  con- 
tinued, as  Shirley  went  into  the  house.  "  And 
when  she  isn't  looking,  I  pour  it  into  the  bush  there. 
See  those  huge,  maudlin-looking  roses  ?  That's  the 
shameless  result.  It's  a  new  species.  I'm  going 
to  name  it  Tipsium  Giganticuni." 

Major  Bristow  laughed  as  he  bit  the  end  off  a 
cigar.  "  All  the  same,"  he  said  in  his  big  rumbling 
voice,  "  you  need  'em,  I  reckon.  You  need  more 
than  mint-juleps,  too.  You  leave  the  whisky  to 
me  and  the  doctor,  and  you  take  Shirley  and  pull 
out  for  Italy.  Why  not?  A  year  there  would  do 
you  a  heap  of  good." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  No,  Monty.  It  isn't 
what  you  think.  It's  —  here."  She  lifted  her 
hand  and  touched  her  heart.  "  It's  been  so  for  a 
long  time.  But  it  may  —  it  can't  go  on  forever, 
you  see.  Nothing  can." 

The  major  had  leaned  forward  in  his  chair. 
"  Judith !  "  he  said,  and  his  hand  twitched,  "  it  isn't 
true !  "  And  then,  "  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

She  smiled  at  him.  "  You  remember  when  that 
big  surgeon  from  Vienna  came  to  see  the  doctor 
last  year?  Well,  the  doctor  brought  him  to  me. 
I'd  known  it  before  in  a  way,  but  it  had  gone  far- 


THIRTY  YEARS  AGO  83 

ther  than  I  thought.  No  one  can  telfjust  how  long 
it  may  be.  It  may  be  years,  of  course,  but  I'm  not 
taking  any  sea  trips,  Monty." 

He  cleared  his  throat  and  his  voice  was  husky 
when  he  spoke.  "  Shirley  doesn't  know  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not.  She  mustn't."  And  then,  in 
sudden  sharpness :  :<  You  shan't  tell  her,  Monty. 
You  wouldn't  dare !  " 

"  No,  indeed,"  he  assured  her  quickly.  "  Of 
course  not." 

"  It's  just  among  us  three,  Doctor  Southall  and 
you  and  me.  We  three  have  had  our  secrets  be- 
fore, eh,  Monty  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Judith,  we  have." 

She  bent  toward  him,  her  hands  tightening  on 
the  cane.  "  After  all,  it's  true.  To-day  I  am  get- 
ting old.  I  may  look  only  fifty,  but  I  feel  sixty 
and  I'll  admit  to  seventy-five.  It's  joy  that  keeps 
us  young,  and  I  didn't  get  my  fair  share  of  that, 
Monty.  For  just  one  little  week  my  heart  had  it 
all  —  all  —  and  then  —  well,  then  it  was  finished. 
It  was  finished  long  before  I  married  Tom  Daa- 
dridge.  It  isn't  that  I'm  empty-headed.  It's  that 
I've  been  an  empty-hearted  woman,  Monty  —  as 
empty  and  dusty  and  desolate  as  the  old  house  over 
yonder  on  the  ridge." 

"  I  know,  Judith,  I  know." 

*  You've  been  empty  in  a  way,  too,"  she  said. 
*'  But  it's  been  a  different  way.  You  were  never 


84        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

in  love — -  really  in  love,  I  mean.  Certainly  not 
with  me,  Monty,  though  you  tried  to  make  me  think 
so  once  upon  a  time,  before  Sassoon  came  along, 
and  —  Beauty  Valiant." 

The  major  blinked,  suddenly  startled.  It  was 
out,  the  one  name  neither  had  spoken  to  the  other 
for  thirty  years !  He  looked  at  her  a  little  guiltily  ; 
but  her  eyes  had  turned  away.  They  were  gazing 
between  the  catalpas  to  where,  far  off  on  a  gentle 
rise,  the  stained  gable  of  a  roof  thrust  up  dark  and 
gaunt  above  its  nest  of  foliage.  "  Everything 
changed  then,"  she  continued  dreamily,  "  every- 
thing." 

The  major's  fingers  strayed  across  his  waistcoat, 
fumbling  uncertainly  for  his  eye-glasses.  For  an 
instant  he,  too,  was  back  in  the  long-ago  past,  when 
he  and  Valiant  had  been  comrades.  What  a  long 
panorama  unfolded  at  the  name;  the  times  when 
they  had  been  boys  fly-fishing  in  the  Rapidan  and 
fox-hunting  about  Pilot-Knob  with  the  yelping 
hounds  —  crisp  winters  of  books  and  pipes  together 
at  the  old  university  at  Charlottesville  —  later  ma- 
turer  years  about  Damory  Court  when  the  trail  of 
sex  had  deepened  into  man's  passion  and  the  devil's 
rivalry.  It  had  been  a  curious  three-sided  affair 
—  he,  and  Valiant,  and  Sassoon.  Sassoon  with  his 
dissipated  flair  and  ungovernable  temper  and 
strange  fits  of  recklessness;  clean,  high-idealed, 
straight-away  Valiant ;  and  he  —  a  Bristow,  neither 


THIRTY  YEARS  AGO  85 

-^ 

better  nor  worse  than  the  rest  of  his  name.  He 
remembered  that  mad  strained  season  when  he 
had  grimly  recognized  his  own  cause  as  hopeless, 
and  with  burning  eyes  had  watched  Sassoon  and 
Valiant  racing  abreast  He  remembered  that  glit- 
tering prodigal  dance  when  he  had  come  upon 
Valiant  and  Judith  standing  in  the  shrubbery,  the 
candle-light  from  some  open  door  engoldening  their 
faces:  hers  smiling,  a  little  flippant  perhaps,  and 
conscious  of  her  spell;  his  grave  and  earnest,  yet 
wistful. 

"  You  promise,  John  ?  " 

"  I  give  my  sacred  word.  Whatever  the  provo- 
cation, I  will  not  lift  my  hand  against  him.  Never, 
never !  "  Then  the  same  voice,  vibrant,  appealing. 
"  Judith !  It  isn't  because  —  because  —  you  care 
for  him?" 

He  had  plunged  away  in  the  darkness  before 
her  answer  came.  What  had  it  mattered  then  to 
him  what  she  had  replied?  And  that  very  night 
had  befallen  the  fatal  quarrel! 

The  major  started.  How  that  name  had  blown 
away  the  dust !  "  That's  a  long  time  ago,  Judith." 

"Think  of  it!  I  wore  my  hair  just  as  Shirley 
does  now.  It  was  the  same  color,  with  the  same 
fascinating  little  lights  and  whorls  in  it."  She 
turned  toward  him,  but  he  sat  rigidly  upright,  his 
gaze  avoiding  hers.  Her  dreamy  look  was  gone 
now,  and  her  eyes  were  very  bright. 


86        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"  Thirty  years  ago  to-morrow  they  fought,"  she 
said  softly,  "  Valiant  and  Sassoon.  Every  woman 
has  her  one  anniversary,  I  suppose,  and  to-mor- 
row's mine.  Do  you  know  what  I  do,  every  four- 
teenth of  May,  Monty?  I  keep  my  room  and  spend 
the  day  always  the  same  way.  There's  a  little  book 
I  read.  And  there's  an  old  haircloth  trunk  that 
I've  had  since  I  was  a  girl.  Down  in  the  bottom 
of  it  are  some  —  things,  that  I  take  out  and  set 
round  the  room  .  .  .  and  there  is  a  handful  of  old 
letters  I  go  over  from  first  to  last.  They're  almost 
worn  out  now,  but  I  could  repeat  them  all  with  my 
eyes  shut.  Then,  there's  a  tiny  old  straw  basket 
with  a  yellow  wisp  in  it  that  once  was  a  bunch  of 
cape  jessamines.  I  wore  them  to  that  last  ball  — 
the  night  before  it  happened.  The  fourteenth  of 
May  used  to  be  sad,  but  now,  do  you  know,  I  look 
forward  to  it!  I  always  have  a  lot  of  jessamines 
that  particular  day  —  I'll  have  Shirley  get  me  some 
to-morrow  —  and  in  the  evening,  when  I  go  down- 
stairs, the  house  is  full  of  the  scent  of  them.  All 
summer  long  it's  roses,  but  on  the  fourteenth  of 
May  it  has  to  be  jessamines.  Shirley  must  think 
me  a  whimsical  old  woman,  but  I  insist  on  being 
humored." 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  the  point  of  her  slender 
cane  tracing  circles  in  the  gravel.  "  It's  a  black  date 
for  you  too,  Monty.  7  know.  But  men  and 


THIRTY  YEARS  AGO  87 

women  are  different.  I  wonder  what  takes  the 
place  to  a  man  of  a  woman's  haircloth  trunk?  " 

"  I  reckon  it's  a  demijohn,"  he  said  mirthlessly, 

A  smile  flashed  over  her  face,  like  sunshine  over 
a  flower,  and  she  looked  up  at  him  slowly.  "  What 
bricks  men  are  to  each  other !  You  and  the  doctor 
were  John  Valiant's  closest  friends.  What  did  you 
two  care  what  people  said?  Why,  women  don't 
stick  to  each  other  like  that!  It  isn't  in  petticoats! 
It  wouldn't  do  for  women  to  take  to  dueling, 
Monty ;  when  the  affair  was  over  and  done,  the  sec- 
onds would  fall  to  with  their  hatpins  and  jab  each 
other's  eyes  out !  " 

He  smiled,  a  little  bleakly,  and  cleared  his  throat. 

"  Isn't  it  strange  for  me  to  be  talking  this  way 
now !  "  she  said  presently.  "  Another  proof  that 
I'm  getting  old.  But  the  date  brings  it  very  close; 
it  seems,  somehow,  closer  than  ever  this  year. — 
Monty,  weren't  you  tremendously  surprised  when  I 
married  Tom  Dandridge  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  was." 

"  I'll  tell  you  a  secret.  /  was,  too.  I  suppose  I 
did  it  because  of  a  sneaking  feeling  that  some  peo- 
ple were  feeling  sorry  for  me,  which  I  never  could 
stand.  Well,  he  was  a  man  any  one  might  honor. 
I've  always  thought  a  woman  ought  to  have  two 
husbands :  one  to  love  and  cherish,  and  the  other 
to  honor  and  obey.  I  had  the  latter,  at  any  rate/' 


88        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"  And  you've  lived,  Judith,"  he  said 
"  Yes,"  she  agreed,  with  a  little  sigh,  "  I've  lived. 
I've  had  Shirley,  and  she's  twenty  and  adorable. 
Some  of  my  emotions  creak  a  bit  in  the  hinges,  but 
I've  enjoyed  things.  A  woman  is  cat  enough  not 
to  be  wholly  miserable  if  she  can  sit  in  the  sun  and 
purr.  And  I've  had  people  enough,  and  books  to 
read,  and  plenty  of  pretty  things  to  look  at,  and 
old  lace  to  wear,  and  I've  kept  my  figure  and  my 
vanity  —  I'm  not  too  old  yet  to  thank  the  Lord  for 
that!  So  don't  talk  to  me  about  worsted  shawls 
and  horrible  arctics.  For  I  won't  wear  'em.  Not 
if  I  know  myself!  Here  comes  Shirley.  She's 
made  two  juleps,  and  if  you're  a  gentleman,  you'll 
distract  her  attention  till  I've  got  rid  of  mine  in 
my  usual  way." 

The  major,  at  the  foot  of  the  cherry-bordered 
lane,  looked  back  across  the  box-hedge  to  where 
the  two  figures  sat  under  the  rose-arbor,  the 
mother's  face  turned  lovingly  down  to  Shirley's  at 
her  knee.  He  stood  a  moment  watching  them  from 
under  his  slouched  hat-brim. 

"  You  never  looked  at  me  that  way,  Judith,  did 
you!"  he  sighed  to  himself.  "It's  been  a  long 
time,  too,  since  I  began  to  want  you  to  — 'most  forty 
years.  When  it  came  to  the  show-down,  I  wasn't 
even  as  fit  as  Tom  Dandridge ! " 

He  pulled  his  hat  down  farther  over  his  big  brow 


THIRTY  YEARS  AGO  89 

and  sighed  again  as  he  strode-  on.  "  You  just 
couldn't  make  yourself  care,  could  you!  People 
can't,  maybe.  And  I  reckon  you  were  right  about 
it.  I  wasn't  fit." 


CHAPTER  XI 

DAMORY    COURT 

**  TEAR'S  Dam'ry  Co'ot  smack-dab  ahaid,  suh." 
JL/  John  Valiant  looked  up.  Facing  them 
at  an  elbow  of  the  broad  road,  was  an  old  gateway 
of  time-nicked  stone,  clasping  an  iron  gate  that  was 
quaint  and  heavy  and  red  with  rust.  Over  it  on 
either  side  twin  sugar-trees  flung  their  untrammeled 
strength,  and  from  it,  leading  up  a  gentle  declivity, 
ran  a  curving  avenue  of  oaks.  He  put  out  his 
hand. 

"  Wait  a  moment/'  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  and 
as  the  creaking  conveyance  stopped,  he  turned  and 
looked  about  him. 

Facing  the  entrance  the  land  fell  away  sharply 
to  a  miniature  valley  through  which  rambled  a  wil- 
low-bordered brook,  in  whose  shallows  short-horned 
cows  stood  lazily.  Beyond,  alternating  with  fields 
of  young  grain  and  verdured  pastures  like  crushed 
velvet,  rose  a  succession  of  tranquil  slopes  crowned 
with  trees  that  here  and  there  grouped  about  a  white 
colonial  dwelling,  with  its  outbuildings  behind  it. 
Beyond,  whither  wound  the  Red  Road,  he  could 
see  a  drowsy  village,  with  a  spire  and  a  cupolaed 

90 


DAMORY  COURT  91 

court-house;  and  farther  yet  a  yellow  gorge 
with  a  wisp  of  white  smoke  curling  above  it 
marked  the  course  of  a  crawling  far-away  railway. 
Over  all  the  dimming  yellow  sunshine,  and  girdling 
the  farther  horizon,  in  masses  of  purplish  blue,  the 
tumbled  battlements  of  the  Blue  Ridge. 

His  conductor  had  laboriously  descended  anc 
now  the  complaining  gates  swung  open.  Before 
them,  as  they  toiled  up  the  long  ascent,  the  neg- 
lected driveway  was  a  riot  of  turbulent  growth: 
thistle,  white-belled  burdock,  ragweed  and  dusty 
mullein  stood  waist  high. 

"  Et's  er  moughty  fine  ol5  place,  suh,  wid  dat  big 
revenue  ob  trees/'  said  Uncle  Jefferson.  "  But  Ah- 
reck'n  et  ain'  got  none  ob  de  modern  connivances." 

But  Valiant  did  not  answer ;  his  gaze  was  straight 
before  him,  fixed  on  the  noble  old  house  they  were 
approaching.  Its  wide  and  columned  front  peered 
between  huge  rugged  oaks  and  slender  silver  pop- 
lars which  cast  cool  long  shadows  across  an  un- 
kempt lawn  laden  with  ragged  mock-orange,  lilac 
and  syringa  bushes,  its  stately  grandeur  dimmed 
but  not  destroyed  by  the  shameful  stains  of  the 
neglected  years. 

As  he  jumped  down  he  was  possessed  by  an  odd 
sensation  of  old  acquaintance  —  as  if  he  had  seen 
those  tall  white  columns  before  —  an  illusory  half- 
vision  into  some  shadowy,  fourth-dimensional  land- 
scape that  belonged  to  his  subconscious  self,  or 


92        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

that,  glimpsed  in  some  immaterial  dream-picture, 
had  left  a  faint-etched  memory.  Then,  on  a  sud- 
den, the  vista  vibrated  and  widened,  the  white  col- 
umns expanded  and  shot  up  into  the  clouds,  and 
from  every  bush  seemed  to  peer  a  friendly  black 
savage  with  woolly  white  hair ! 

"  Wishing-House !  "  he  whispered.  He  looked 
about  him,  half  expecting  —  so  vivid  was  the  il- 
lusion —  to  see  a  circle  of  rough  huts  under  the 
trees  and  a  multitude  of  ebony  imps  dancing  in  the 
sunshine.  So  Virginia  had  been  that  secret  Never- 
Never  Land,  the  wondrous  fairy  demesne  of  his 
childhood,  with  its  amiable  barbarians  and  its  thick- 
ets of  coursing  grimalkins!  The  hidden  country 
which  his  father's  thoughts,  sadly  recurring,  had 
painted  to  the  little  child  that  once  he  was,  in 
the  guise  of  an  endless  wonder-tale!  His  eyes 
misted  over,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  moment  that 
his  father  was  very  near. 

Leaving  the  negro  to  unload  his  belongings,  he 
traversed  an  overgrown  path  of  mossed  gravel,  be- 
tween box-rows  frowsled  like  the  manes  of  lions 
gone  mad  and  smothered  in  an  accumulation  of 
matted  roots  and  debris  of  rotting  foliage,  and 
presently,  the  bulldog  at  his  heels,  found  himself  in 
the  rear  of  the  house. 

The  building,  with  kitchen,  stables  and  negro 
quarters  behind  it,  had  been  set  on  the  boss  of 


DAMORY  COURT  93 

the  wooded  knoll.  Along  half  it§  side  ran  a  wide 
porch  that  had  once  been  glass-enclosed,  now  with 
panes  gone  and  broken  and  putty-crumbling  sashes. 
Below  it  lay  the  piteous  remnants  of  a  formal  gar- 
den, grouped  about  an  oval  pool  from  whose  center 
reared  the  slender  yellowed  shaft  of  a  fountain 
in  whose  shallow  cup  a  robin  was  taking  its  rain- 
water bath.  The  pool  was  dry,  the  tiles  that  had 
formed  its  floor  were  prized  apart  with  weeds; 
ribald  wild  grape-vines  ran  amuck  hither  and 
thither;  and  over  all  was  a  drenching-sweet  scent 
of  trailing  honeysuckle. 

Threading  his  way  among  the  dank  undergrowth 
of  the  desolate  wilderness,  following  the  sound  of 
running  water,  he  came  suddenly  to  a  little  lake  fed 
from  unseen  pipes,  that  spread  its  lily-padded 
surface  coolly  and  invitingly  under  a  clump  of 
elms.  Beside  it  stood  a  spring-house  with  a  sadly 
sagging  roof.  With  a  dead  branch  he  probed  the 
water's  depth.  "  Ten  feet  and  a  pebble  bottom," 
he  said.  The  lake's  overflow  poured  in  a  musical 
cascade  down  between  fern-covered  rocks,  to  join, 
far  below,  the  stream  he  had  seen  from  the  gate- 
way. Beyond  this  the  ground  rose  again  to  a  hill, 
densely  forested  and  flanked  by  runnelled  slopes  of 
poverty-stricken  broom-sedge  as  stark  and  sear  as 
the  bad-lands  of  an  alkali  desert.  As  he  gazed, 
a  bird  bubbled  into  a  wild  song  from  the  grape- 


94        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

vine  tangle  behind  him,  and  almost  at  his  feet  a 
rabbit  scudded  blithely  out  of  the  weeds  and  darted 
back. 

"  Mine ! "  he  said  aloud  with  a  rueful  pride. 
"  And  for  general  run-downness,  it's  up  to  the  ad- 
vertisement." He  looked  musingly  at  the  piteous 
wreck  and  ruin,  his  gaze  sweeping  down  across  the 
bared  fields  and  unkempt  forest.  "  Mine !  "  he  re- 
peated. "  All  that,  I  suppose,  for  it  has  the  same 
earmarks  of  neglect.  Between  those  cultivated 
stretches  it  looks  like  a  wedge  of  Sahara  gone 
astray."  His  gaze  returned  to  the  house.  ''  Yet 
what  a  place  it  must  have  been  in  its  time !  "  It 
had  not  sprung  into  being  at  the  whim  of  any  one 
man;  it  had  grown  mellowly  and  deliberately,  ex- 
pressing the  multiform  life  and  culture  of  a  stock. 
Generation  after  generation,  father  and  son,  had 
lived  there  and  loved  it,  and,  ministering  to  all,  it 
had  given  to  each  of  itself.  The  wild  weird  beauty 
was  infecting  him  and  the  pathos  of  the  desolation 
caught  at  his  heart.  He  went  slowly  back  to  where 
his  conductor  sat  on  the  lichened  horse-block. 

"  We's  heah,"  called  Uncle  Jefferson  cheerfully. 
"  Whut  we  gwineter  do  nex',  suh  ?  Reck'n  Ah  bet- 
tah  go  ovah  ter  Miss  Dandridge's  place  fer  er  crow- 
bah.  Lawd!"  he  added,  "  ef  he  ain'  got  de  key! 
Whut  yo'  think  ob  dat  now?  " 

John  Valiant  was  looking  closely  at  the  big  key; 
for  there  were  words,  which  he  had  not  noted  be- 


DAMORY  COURT  95 

fore,  engraved  in  the  massive  flange:  Friends  aU 
hours.  He  smiled.  The  sentiment  sent  a  warm 
current  of  pleasure  to  his  finger-tips.  Here  was 
the  very  text  of  hospitality ! 

A  Lilliputian  spider-web  was  stretched  over  the 
preempted  keyhole,  and  he  fetched  a  grass-stem 
and  poked  out  its  tiny  gray-striped  denizen  before 
he  inserted  the  key  in  the  rusted  lock.  He  turned 
it  with  a  curious  sense  of  timidity.  All  the  strength 
of  his  fingers  was  necessary  before  the  massive 
door  swung  open  and  the  leveling  sun  sent  its  late 
red  rays  into  the  gloomy  interior. 

He  stood  in  a  spacious  hall,  his  nostrils  filled 
with  a  curious  but  not  unpleasant  aromatic  odor 
with  which  the  place  was  strongly  impregnated. 
The  hall  ran  the  full  length  of  the  building,  and  in 
its  center  a  wide,  balustraded  double  staircase  led 
to  upper  darkness.  The  floor,  where  his  footprints 
had  disturbed  the  even  gray  film  of  dust,  was  of 
fine  close  parquetry  and  had  been  generously 
strewn  everywhere  with  a  mica-like  powder.  He 
stooped  and  took  up  a  pinch  in  his  fingers,  noting 
that  it  gave  forth  the  curious  spicy  scent.  Dim 
paintings  in  tarnished  frames  hung  on  the  walls. 
From  a  niche  on  the  break  of  the  stairway  looked 
down  the  round  face  of  a  tall  Dutch  clock,  and  on 
one  side  protruded  a  huge  bulging  something 
draped  with  a  yellowed  linen  sheet.  From  its  shape 
he  guessed  this  to  be  an  elk's  head.  Dust,  undis- 


96        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

turbed,  lay  thickly  on  everything,  ghostly  floating 
cobwebs  crawled  across  his  face,  and  a  bat  flitted 
out  of  a  fireplace  and  vanished  squeaking  over  his 
head.  With  Uncle  Jefferson's  help  he  opened  the 
rear  doors  and  windows,  knocked  up  the  rusted  belts 
of  the  shutters  and  flung  them  wide. 

But  for  the  dust  and  cobwebs  and  the  strange 
odor,  mingled  with  the  faint  musty  smell  that  per- 
vades a  sunless  interior,  the  former  owner  of  the 
house  might  have  deserted  it  a  week  ago.  On  a 
wall-rack  lay  two  walking-sticks  and  a  gold-mounted 
hunting-crop,  and  on  a  great  carved  chest  below 
it  had  been  flung  an  opened  book  bound  in  tooled 
leather.  John  Valiant  picked  this  up  curiously. 
It  was  Lucile.  He  noted  that  here  and  there 
passages  were  marked  with  penciled  lines  —  some 
light  and  femininely  delicate,  some  heavier,  as 
though  two  had  been  reading  it  together,  noting 
their  individual  preferences. 

He  laid  it  back  musingly,  and  opening  a  door, 
entered  the  large  room  it  disclosed.  This  had  been 
the  dining-room.  The  walls  were  white,  in  alter- 
nate panels  with  small  oval  mirrors  whose  dust- 
covered  surfaces  looked  like  ground  steel.  At  one 
end  stood  a  crystal-knobbed  mahogany  sideboard, 
holding  glass  candlesticks  in  the  shape  of  Ionic 
columns  —  above  it  a  quaint  portrait  of  a  lady  in 
hoops  and  love-curls  —  and  at  the  other  end  was  a 


DAMORY  COURT  97 

^A 

huge  fireplace  with  rust-red  fire-dogs  and  tarnished 
brass  fender.  All  these,  with  the  round  centipede 
table  and  the  Chippendale  chairs  set  in  order  against 
the  walls,  were  dimmed  and  grayed  with  a  thick 
powdering  of  dust. 

The  next  room  that  he  entered  was  big  and 
wide,  a  place  of  dark  colors,  nobly  smutched  of 
time.  It  had  been  at  once  library  and  living-room. 
Glass-faced  book-shelves  ran  along  one  side  —  well- 
stocked,  as  the  dusty  panes  showed  —  and  a  huge 
pigeonholed  desk  glowered  in  the  big  bow-win- 
dow that  opened  on  to  what  had  been  the  garden. 
On  the  wall  hung  an  old  map  of  Virginia.  At  one 
side  the  dark  wainscoting  yawned  to  a  cavernous 
fireplace  and  inglenook  with  seats  in  black  leather. 
By  it  stood  a  great  square  tapestry  screen,  showing 
a  hunting  scene,  set  in  a  heavy  frame.  A  great 
leather  settee  was  drawn  near  the  desk  and  beside 
this  stood  a  reading-stand  with  a  small  china  dog 
and  a  squat  bronze  lamp  upon  it.  In  contrast  to 
the  orderly  dining-room  there  was  about  this 
chamber  a  sense  of  untouched  disorder  —  a  desk- 
drawer  jerked  half -open,  a  yellowed  newspaper  torn 
across  and  flung  into  a  corner,  books  tossed  on 
desk  and  lounge,  and  in  the  fireplace  a  little  heap 
of  whitened  ashes  in  which  charred  fragments  told 
of  letters  and  papers  burned  in  haste.  A  bottle 
that  had  once  held  brandy  and  a  grimy  goblet  stood 


98        THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

on  the  desk,  and  in  a  metal  ash-tray  on  the  read- 
ing-stand lay  a  half -smoked  cigar  that  crumbled  to 
dust  in  the  intruder's  fingers. 

One  by  one  Valiant  forced  open  the  tall  French 
windows,  till  the  fading  light  lay  softly  over  the 
austere  dignity  of  the  apartment.  In  that  somber 
room,  he  knew,  had  had  place  whatever  was  most 
worthy  in  the  lives  of  his  forebears.  The  thought 
of  generation  upon  generation  had  steeped  it  in  hu- 
man association. 

Suddenly  he  lifted  his  eyes.  Above  the  desk 
hung  a  life-size  portrait  of  a  man,  in  the  high  soft 
stock  and  velvet  collar  of  half  a  century  before. 
The  right  eye,  strangely,  had  been  cut  from  the  can- 
vas. He  stood  straight  and  tall,  one  hand  holding 
an  eager  hound  in  leash,  his  face  proud  and  florid, 
his  single,  cold,  steel-blue  eye  staring  down  through 
its  dusty  curtain  with  a  certain  malicious  arrogance, 
and  his  lips  set  in  a  sardonic  curve  that  seemed 
about  to  sneer.  It  was  for  an  instant  as  if  the  pic- 
tured figure  confronted  the  young  man  who  stood 
there,  mutely  challenging  his  entrance  into  that 
tomb-like  and  secret-keeping  quiet;  and  he  gazed 
back  as  fixedly,  repelled  by  the  craft  of  the  face,  yet 
subtly  attracted.  "  I  wonder  who  you  were/'  he 
said.  "  You  were  cruel.  Perhaps  you  were  wicked. 
Btrt  you  were  strong,  too." 

He  returned  to  the  outer  hall  to  find  that  the  ne- 


DAMORY  COURT  99 

gro  had  carried  in  his  trunk,  and  he  bade  him  place 
it,  with  the  portmanteau,  in  the  room  he  had  just 
left.  Dusk  was  falling.  The  air  was  full  of  a 
faint  far  chirr  of  night  insects,  like  an  elfin  sere- 
nade, and  here  and  there  among  the  trees  pulsed 
the  greenish-yellow  spark  of  a  firefly. 

"  Uncle  Jefferson,"  said  Valiant  abruptly,  "  have 
you  a  family  ?  " 

"  No,  suh.     Jes'  me  en  mah  ol'  'ooman." 

"Can  she  cook?" 

"  Cook !  "  The  genial  titter  again  captured  his 
dusky  escort.  "  When  she  got  de  Hxens,  Ah  reck'n 
she  de  beaten'es  cook  in  dis  heah  county." 

"  How  much  do  you  earn,  driving  that  hack  ?  " 

Uncle  Jefferson  ruminated.  "  Well,  suh,  'pens 
on  de  weddah.  Mighty  lucky  sometimes  dis  yeah 
cf  Ah  kin  pay  de  groc'ry  man." 

"  How  would  you  both  like  to  live  here  with  me 
for  a  while?  She  could  cook  and  you  could  take 
care  of  me." 

Uncle  Jefferson's  eyes  seemed  to  turn  inward 
with  mingled  surprise  and  introspection.  He 
shifted  from  one  foot  to  the  other,  swallowed  diffi- 
cultly several  times,  and  said,  "  Ah  am'  nebbah  seed 
yo'  befo',  suh." 

"  Well,  I  haven't  seen  you  either,  have  !•?  " 

"  Dat's  de  trufe,  suh,  'deed  et  is!  Hyuh,  hyuh! 
Whut  Ah  means  ter  say  is  dat  de  ol'  'ooman  kain' 


ioo      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

cook  no  fancy  didoes  like  what  dey  eats  up  Norf. 
She  kin  jesj  cook  de  Ferginey  style." 

"  That  sounds  good  to  me,"  quoth  Valiant.  "  I'll 
risk  it.  Now  as  to  wages — " 

"  Ah  ain'  specticulous  as  ter  de  wages,"  said 
Uncle  Jefferson.  "  Ah  knows  er  gemman  when  Ah 
sees  one.  'Sides,  ter-day's  Friday  en  et's  baid  luck. 
Ah  sho'  is  troubled  in  mah  min'  wheddah  we-all 
kin  suit  yo'  perpensities,  but  Ah  reck'n  we  kin  take 
er  try  ef  yo'  kin." 

:<  Then  it's  a  bargain/'  responded  Valiant  with 
alacrity.  "  Can  you  come  at  once  ?  " 

'  Yas,  suh,  me  en  Daph  gwineter  come  ovah  fus' 
thing  in  de  mawnin'.  Whut  yo'-all  gwineter  do  fo' 
yo'  suppah  ?  " 

"  I'll  get  along,"  Valiant  assured  him  cheerfully. 
"  Here  is  five  dollars.  You  can  buy  some  food  and 
things  to  cook  with,  and  bring  them  with  you.  Do 
you  think  there's  a  stove  in  the  kitchen  ?  " 

"  Ah  reck'n,"  replied  Uncle  Jefferson.  "  En  ef 
dar  ain'  Daph  kin  cook  er  Chris'mus  dinnah  wid  fo' 
stones  en  er  tin  skillet.  Yas,  suh!" 

He  trudged  away  into  the  shadows,  but  presently, 
as  the  new  master  of  Damory  Court  stood  in  the 
gloomy  hall,  he  heard  the  shambling  step  again  be- 
hind him.  "  Ah  done  neglectuated  ter  ax  yo'  name, 
suh.  Ah  did,  fo'  er  fac'." 

"  My  name  is  Valiant.     John  Valiant." 

Uncle  Jefferson's  eyes  turned  upward  and  rolled 


DAMORY  COURT  101- 

out  of  orbit.     "  Mah  Lawd !  "  be  escalated  »soi!TioS , 
lessly.     And  with  his  wide  lips  still  framed  about 
the  last  word,  he  backed  out  of  the  doorway  and 
disappeared. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE    CASE    OF    MOROCCO    LEATHER 

ALONE  in  the  ebbing  twilight,  John  Valiant 
found  his  hamper,  spread  a  napkin  on  the 
broad  stone  steps  and  took  out  a  glass,  a  spoon  and 
part  of  a  loaf  of  bread.  The  thermos  flask  was 
filled  with  milk.  It  was  not  a  splendid  banquet,  yet 
he  ate  it  with  as  great  content  as  the  bulldog  at  his 
feet  gnawed  his  share  of  the  crust.  He  broke  his 
bread  into  the  milk  as  he  had  not  done  since  he  was 
a  child,  and  ate  the  luscious  pulp  with  a  keen  relish 
bred  of  the  long  outdoor  day.  When  the  last  drop 
was  gone  he  brushed  up  the  very  crumbs  from  the 
cloth,  laughing  to  himself  as  he  did  so.  It  had 
been  a  long  time  since  he  remembered  being  so 
hungry ! 

It  was  almost  dark  when  the  meal  was  done  and, 
depleted  hamper  in  hand,  he  reentered  the  empty 
echoing  house.  He  went  into  the  library,  lighted 
the  great  brass  lamp  from  the  motor  and  began  to 
rummage.  The  drawers  of  the  dining-room  side- 
board yielded  nothing;  on  a  shelf  of  the  butler's 
pantry,  however,  was  a  tin  box  which  proved  to  be 
half  full  of  wax  candles,  perfectly  preserved. 

1 02 


THE  CASE  OF  MOROCCO  LEATHER     103 

"  The  very  thing!  "  he  said  triumphantly.  Car- 
rying them  back,  he  fixed  several  in  the  glass- 
candlesticks  and  set  them,  lighted,  all  about  the 
somber  room  till  the  soft  glow  flooded  its  every 
corner.  "  There,"  he  said,  "  that  is  as  it  should  be. 
No  big  blatant  search-light  here !  And  no  glare  of 
modern  electricity  would  suit  that  old  wainscoting, 
either."  He  looked  up  at  the  painting  on  the  wall ; 
it  seemed  as  if  the  sneer  had  smoothed  out,  the 
hard  cruel  eye  softened.  "  You  needn't  be  afraid," 
he  said,  nodding.  "  I  understand." 

He  dragged  the  leather  settee  to  the  porch  and 
by  the  light  of  the  motor-lamp  dusted  it  thoroughly, 
and  wheeling  it  back,  set  it  under  the  portrait.  He 
washed  the  glass  from  which  he  had  dined  and 
filled  it  at  the  cup  of  the  garden  fountain,  put  into 
it  the  rose  from  his  hat  and  set  it  on  the  reading- 
stand.  The  small  china  dog  caught  his  eye  and  he 
picked  it  up  casually.  The  head  came  off  in  his 
hands.  It  had  been  a  bon-bon  box  and  was  empty 
save  for  a  narrow  strip  of  yellowed  paper,  on  which 
were  written  some  meaningless  figures:  17-28-94-0. 
He  pondered  this  a  moment,  then  thrust  it  into  one 
of  the  empty  pigeonholes  of  the  desk.  On  the 
latter  stood  an  old-fashioned  leaf-calendar;  the 
date  it  exposed  was  May  I4th.  Curiously  enough 
the  same  date  would  recur  to-morrow.  The  page 
bore  a  quotation :  "  Every  man  carries  his  fate  on 
a  riband  about  his  neck."  The  line  had  been 


104      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

quoted  in  his  father's  letter.  May  I4th!  —  how 
much  that  date  and  that  motto  may  have  meant  for 
him! 

He  put  the  calendar  back,  filled  his  pipe  and  sat 
down  facing  the  open  bow-window.  The  dark  was 
mysteriously  lifting,  the  air  filling  with  a  soft 
silver-gray  translucence  that  touched  the  wild 
growth  as  with  a  fairy  gossamer.  Presently,  from 
between  the  still  elms,  the  new  sickle  moon  climbed 
into  view.  From  the  garden  came  a  plaintive  bird- 
cry,  long-drawn  and  wavering  and  then,  from 
farther  away,  the  triple  mellow  whistle  of  a  whip- 
poo  rwill. 

The  place  was  alive  now  with  bird-notes,  and  he 
listened  with  a  new  delight.  He  thought  suddenly, 
with  a  kind  of  impatient  wonder,  that  never  in  his 
life  had  he  sat  perfectly  alone  in  a  solitude  and 
listened  to  the  voices  of  the  night.  The  only  out- 
of-doors  he  knew  had  been  comprised  in  motor- 
whirls  on  frequented  highroads,  seashore,  or 
mountain  months  where  bridge  and  dancing  were 
forever  on  the  cards,  or  else  such  up-to-date  "  camp- 
ing "  as  was  indulged  in  at  the  Fargos'  "  shack  "  on 
the  St.  Lawrence.  He  sat  now  with  his  senses 
alert  to  a  new  world  that  his  sophisticated  eye  and 
ear  had  never  known.  Something  new  was  enter- 
ing into  him  that  seemed  the  spirit  of  the  place; 
the  blessing  of  the  tall  silver  poplars  outside,  the 


THE  CASE  OF  MOROCCO  LEATHER  105 

musical  scented  gardens  and  the  moonlight  laid  like 
a  placid  benediction  over  all. 

He  rose  to  push  the  shutter  wider  and  in  the 
movement  his  elbow  sent  a  shallow  case  of  morocco 
leather  that  had  lain  on  the  desk  crashing  to  the  floor. 
It  opened  and  a  heavy  metallic  object  rolled  almost 
to  his  feet.  He  saw  at  a  glance  that  it  was  an  old- 
fashioned  rusted  dueling-pistol. 

The  box  had  originally  held  two  pistols.  He 
shuddered  as  he  stooped  to  pick  up  the  weapon,  and 
with  the  crawling  repugnance  mingled  a  panging 
anger  and  humiliation.  From  his  very  babyhood  it 
had  always  been  so  —  that  unconquerable  aversion 
to  the  touch  of  a  firearm.  There  had  been  mo- 
ments in  his  youth  when  this  unreasoning  shrinking 
had  filled  him  with  a  blind  fury,  had  driven  him  to 
strange  self -tests  of  courage.  He  had  never  been 
able  to  overcome  it.  He  had  always  had  a  natural 
distaste  for  the  taking  of  life;  hunting  was  an  un- 
thinkable sport  to  him,  and  he  regarded  the  lusty 
pursuit  of  small  feathered  or  furry  things  for 
pleasure  with  a  mingled  wonder  and  contempt.  But 
analyzation  had  told  him  that  his  peculiar  abhor- 
rence was  no  mere  outgrowth  of  this.  It  lay  far 
deeper.  He  had  rarely,  of  recent  years,  met  the 
test.  Now,  as  he  stood  in  these  unaccustomed  sur- 
roundings, with  the  cold  touch  of  the  metal  the  old 
shuddering  held  him,  and  the  sweat  broke  in  beads 


io6      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

on  his  forehead.  Setting  his  teeth  hard,  he  crossed 
the  room,  slipped  the  box  with  its  pistol  between 
the  volumes  of  the  bookcase,  and  returned  to  his 
seat. 

The  bulldog,  aroused  from  a  nap,  thrust  a  warm 
muzzle  between  his  knees.  "  It's  uncanny,  Chum ! " 
he  said,  as  his  hand  caressed  the  velvety  head. 
"  Why  should  the  touch  of  that  fool  thing  chill  my 
spine  and  make  my  flesh  tiptoe  over  my  bones? 
Is  it  a  mere  peculiarity  of  temperament?  Some 
men  hate  cats'-eyes.  Some  can't  abide  sitting  on 
plush.  I  knew  a  chap  once  who  couldn't  see  milk 
poured  from  a  pitcher  without  getting  goose-flesh. 
People  are  born  that  way,  but  there  must  be  a 
cause.  Why  should  I  hate  a  pistol?  Do  you  sup- 
pose I  was  shot  in  one  of  my  previous  existences?  " 

For  a  long  while  he  sat  there,  his  pipe  dead,  his 
eyes  on  the  moonlighted  out-of-doors.  The  eery 
feeling  that  had  gripped  him  had  gone  as  quickly  as 
it  had  come.  At  last  he  rose,  stretching  himself 
with  a  great  boyish  yawn,  put  out  all  save  one  of 
the  candles  and  taking  a  bath-robe,  sandals  and  a 
huge  fuzzy  towel  from  the  steamer-trunk,  stripped 
leisurely.  He  donned  the  bath-robe  and  sandals 
and  went  out  through  the  window  to  the  garden  and 
down  to  where  lay  the  little  lake  ruffling  silverly 
under  the  moon.  On  its  brink  he  stopped,  and  toss- 
ing back  his  head,  tried  to  imitate  one  of  the  bird- 
calls but  was  unsuccessful.  With  a  rueful  laugh 


THE  CASE  OF  MOROCCO  LEATHER     107 

he  threw  off  the  bath-robe  and  stood  an  instant 
glistening,  poised  in  the  moonlight  like  a  marble 
faun,  before  he  dove,  straight  down  out  of  sight. 

Five  minutes  later  he  pulled  himself  up  over  the 
edge,  his  flesh  tingling  with  the  chill  of  the  water, 
and  drew  the  robe  about  his  cool  white  shoulders. 
Then  he  thrust  his  feet  into  his  sandals  and  sped 
quickly  back.  He  rubbed  himself  to  a  glow,  and 
blowing  out  the  remaining  candle,  stretched  him- 
self luxuriously  between  the  warm  blankets  on  the 
couch.  The  dog  sniffed  inquiringly  at  his  hand, 
then  leaped  up  and  snuggled  down  close  to  his  feet. 

The  soft  flooding  moonlight  sent  its  radiance  into 
the  gloomy  room,  touching  lovingly  its  dark  carven 
furniture  and  bringing  into  sharp  relief  the  lithe 
contour  of  the  figure  under  the  fleecy  coverlid,  the 
crisp  damp  hair,  the  expressive  face,  and  the  wide- 
open  dreamy  eyes. 

John  Valiant's  thoughts  had  fled  a  thousand  miles 
away,  to  the  tall  girl  who  all  his  life  had  seemed  to 
stand  out  from  his  world,  aloof  and  unsurpassed  — 
Katharine  Fargo.  He  tried  to  picture  her,  a  per- 
fect chatelaine,  graceful  and  gracious  as  a  tall, 
white,  splendid  lily,  in  this  dead  house  that  seemed 
still  to  throb  with  living  passions.  But  the  picture 
subtly  eluded  him  and  he  stirred  uneasily  under  the 
blanket. 

After  a  time  his  hand  stretched  out  to  the  read- 
ing-stand and  drew  tiie  glass  with  its  vivid  blossom 


io8      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

nearer,  till,  in  his  nostrils,  its  musky  odor  mingled 
with  the  dew- wet  scent  of  the  honeysuckle  from  the 
garden.  At  last  his  eyes  closed.  "  Every  man  car- 
ries his  fate  ...  on  a  riband  about  his  neck," 
he  muttered  drowsily,  and  then,  "  Roses  *  «  .  red 
roses  .  .  ." 

And  so  he  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    HUNT 

HE  awoke  to  a  musical  twittering  and  chirping, 
to  find  the  sun  pouring  into  the  dusty  room 
in  a  very  glory.  He  rolled  from  the  blanket  and 
stood  upright,  filling  his  lungs  with  a  long  deep 
breath  of  satisfaction.  He  felt  singularly  light- 
hearted  and  alive.  The  bulldog  came  bounding 
through  the  window,  dirty  from  the  weeds,  and 
flung  himself  upon  his  master  in  a  canine  rapture. 

"  Get  out !  "  quoth  the  latter,  laughing.  "  Stop 
licking  my  feet !  How  the  dickens  do  you  suppose 
I'm  to  get  into  my  clothes  with  your  ridiculous 
antics  going  on  ?  Down,  I  say !  " 

He  began  to  dress  rapidly.  "  Listen  to  those 
birds,  Chum !  "  he  said.  "  There's  an  ornithological 
political  convention  going  on*  out  there.  Wish  I 
knew  what  they  were  chinning  about  —  they're  so 
mightily  in  earnest.  See  them  splashing  in  that 
fountain?  If  you  had  any  self-respect  you'd  be 
taking  a  bath  yourself.  You  need  it !  Hark !  " 
He  broke  off  and  listened.  "  Who's  that  singing?  " 

The  sound  drew  nearer  —  a  lugubrious  chant, 
with  the  weirdest  minor  reflections,  faintly  sugges- 

IOQ 


no      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

tive  of  the  rag-time  ditties  of  the  music-halls,  yet 
with  a  plaintive  cadence : 

"  As  he  went  mowin*  roun*  de  fiel* 
Er  mocc'son  bit  him  on  de  heel. 

Right  toodle-link-uh-day, 

Right  toodJe-link-uh-day, 
Right  toodle-iink-uh,  toodle-link-uh, 
Da-a-dee-e-ecye ! 

"  Dey  kyah'd  him  in  ter  his  Sally  deah. 
She  say,  *  M:ih  lawd,  yo*  looks  so  queah  I ' 
Right  toodJe-link-uh-day, 
Right  too-ile-link-uh-day, 
Right  toodle-link-uh,  toodle-link-uh, 
Da-a-dee-e-e-aye ! " 

A  smile  of  genuine  delight  crossed  the  listener's 
face.  "That  would  make  the  everlasting  fortune 
of  a  music-hall  artist,"  Valiant  muttered,  as,  coat- 
less,  and  with  a  towel  over  his  arm,  he  stepped  to  the 
piazza. 

"  Dey  laid  him  down  —  spang  on  de  grown*. 
He-e-e  shet-up-his-eyes  en  looked  all  aroun*, 

Right  toodle-link-uh-day, 

Right  toodle-link-uh-day, 
Right  toodle-link-uh,  toodle-link-uh, 
Da-a-dee  «-e-aye ! 

"  So  den  he  died,  giv*  tip  de  Ghos*. 
To  Abrum's  buzzum  he  did  pos*— 
Right  toodle-link-uh-day, 
Right  toodle-link-uh-day—  * 


THE  HUNT  in 

94  Good  morning,  Uncle  Jefferson/' 

The  singer  broke  off  his  refrain,  set  down  the 
twig-broom  that  he  had  been  wielding  and  came 
toward  him.  "  Mawnin',  suh.  Mawnin',"  he  said. 
"  Hopes  yo'-all  slep'  good.  Ah  reck'n  dem  ar  birds 
woke  yo'  up ;  dey's  makin'  seh  er  'miration." 

"  Thank  you.  Never  slept  better  in  my  life.  Am 
I  laboring  under  a  delusion  when  I  imagine  I  smell 
coffee?" 

Just  then  there  came  a  voice  from  the  open  door 
of  the  kitchen:  "  Calls  yo'se'f  er  man.,  yo'  triflin' 
reconstructed  niggah !  Wen  marstah  gwineter  git 
he  brekfus'  wid'  yo'  ramshacklin'  eroun'  wid  dat 
dawg  all  dis  Gawd's-blessid  mawnin'?  Go  fotch 
some  mo'  fiah-wood  dis  minute.  Yo'  heah  ?  " 

A  turbaned  head  poked  itself  through  the  door, 
with  a  good-natured  leaf -brown  face  beneath  it, 
which  broadened  into  a  wide  smile  as  its  owner 
bobbed  energetically  at  Valiant's  greeting.  "  Fo* 
de  Lawd! "  she  exclaimed,  wiping  floury  hands  on 
a  gingham  apron.  "  Yo'  sho'  is  up  early,  but  Ah 
got  yo'  brekfus'  mos'  ready,  suh." 

"  All  right,  Aunt  Daphne.     I'll  be  back  directly." 

He  sped  down  to  the  lake  to  plunge  his  head  into 
the  cool  water  and  thereby  sharpen  the  edge  of  an 
appetite  that  needed  no  honing.  From  the  little 
valley  through  which  the  stream  meandered,  rose  a 
curdled  mist,  fraying  now  beneath  the  warming  sun. 


ii2      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

The  tall  tangled  grass  through  which  he  passed  was 
beaded  with  dew  like  diamonds  and  hung  with  a 
thousand  fairy  jeweled  webs.  The  wild  honey- 
suckle was  alive  with  quick  whirrings  of  humming- 
birds, and  he  hung  his  pocket-mirror  from  a  twig 
and  shaved  with  a  woodsy  chorus  in  his  ears. 

He  came  up  the  trail  again  to  find  the  reading- 
stand  transferred  to  the  porch  and  laid  with  a  white 
cloth  on  which  was  set  a  steaming  cofTee-pot,  with 
fresh  cream,  saltless  butter  and  crisp  hot  biscuit; 
and  as  he  sat  down,  with  a  sigh  of  pure  delight,  in 
his  dressing-gown  —  a  crepy  Japanese  thing  re- 
deemed from  womanishness  by  the  bold  green  bam- 
boo of  its  design  —  Uncle  Jefferson  planted  before 
him  a  generous  platter  of  bacon,  eggs  and  potatoes. 
These  he  attacked  with  a  surprising  keenness.  As 
he  buttered  his  fifth  biscuit  he  looked  at  the  dog, 
rolling  on  his  back  in  morning  ecstasy,  with  a  look 
of  humorous  surprise. 

"  Chum/'  he  said,  "  what  do  you  think  of  that? 
All  my  life  a  single  roll  and  a  cup  of  coffee  have 
been  the  most  I  could  ever  negotiate  for  breakfast, 
and  then  it  was  apt  to  taste  like  chips  and  whet- 
stones. And  now  look  at  this  plate ! "  The  dog 
ceased  winnowing  his  ear  with  a  hind  foot  and 
looked  back  at  his  master  with  much  the  same  ex- 
pression. Clearly  his  own  needs  had  not  been  for- 
gotten. 

"  Reck'n  Ah  bettah  go  ter  git  dat  ar  machine 


THE  HUNT  113 

thing,"  said  Uncle  Jefferson  behind  him.  "  Ol' 
'ooman,  heah,  she  'low  ter  fix  up  de  kitchen  dis 
mawnin'  en  we  begin  on  de  house  dis  evenin'." 

"Right-o,"  said  Valiant.  "It's  all  up-hill,  so 
the  motor  won't  run  away  with  you.  Aunt  Daphne, 
can  you  get  some  help  with  the  cleaning?  " 

"  He'p?"  that  worthy  responded  with  fine  scorn. 
"No,  suh.  Moughty  few,  in  de  town  'cep'n  low- 
down  yaller  new-issue  trash  det  am'  wu'f  killin'! 
Ah  gwineter  go  fo'  dat  house  mahse'f  'fo'  long, 
hammah  en  tongs,  en  git  it  fix*  up !  " 

"  Splendid !  My  destiny  is  in  your  hands.  You 
might  take  the  dog  with  you,  Uncle  Jefferson;  the 
run  will  do  him  good." 

When  the  latter  had  disappeared  and  truculent 
sounds  from  the  kitchen  indicated  that  the  era  of 
strenuous  cleaning  had  begun,  he  reentered  the 
library,  changed  the  water  in  the  rose-glass  and  set 
it  on  the  edge  of  the  shady  front  porch,  where  its 
flaunting  blossom  made  a  dash  of  bright  crimson 
against  the  grayed  weather-beaten  brick.  This 
done,  he  opened  the  one  large  room  on  the  ground- 
floor  that  he  had  not  visited. 

It  was  double  the  size  of  the  library,  a  parlor 
hung  in  striped  yellow  silk  vaguely  and  tenderly 
faded,  with  a  tall  plate  mirror  set  over  a  marble- 
topped  console  at  either  side.  In  one  corner  stood  a 
grand  piano  of  Circassian  walnut  with  keys  of  tinted 
mother-of-pearl  and  a  slender  music-rack  inlaid  with 


ii4      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

morning-glories  in  the  same  material.  From  the 
center  of  the  ceiling,  above  an  oval  table,  depended 
a  great  chandelier  hung  with  glass  prisms.  He 
drew  his  handkerchief  across  the  table;  beneath 
the  disfiguring  dust  it  showed  a  highly  polished 
surface  inlaid  with  different  colored  woods,  m 
an  intricate  Italian-like  landscape.  The  legs  of 
the  consoles  were  bowed,  delicately  carved,  and  of 
gold-leaf.  The  chairs  and  sofas  were  covered  with 
dusty  slip-covers  of  muslin.  He  lifted  one  of  thesa 
The  tarnished  gold  furniture  was  Louis  XV,  the 
upholstery  of  yellow  brocade  with  a  pattern  of  pink 
roses.  Two  Japanese  hawthorn  vases  sat  on  teak- 
wood  stands  and  a  corner  held  a  glass  cabinet  con- 
taining a  collection  of  small  ivories  and  faience. 

His  appreciative  eye  kindled.  "  What  a  room !  " 
he  muttered.  "  Not  a  jarring  note  anywhere ! 
That's  an  old  Crowe  and  Christopher  piano.  I'll 
get  plenty  of  music  out  of  that !  You  don't  see  such 
chandeliers  outside  of  palaces  any  more  except  in 
the  old  French  chateaus.  It  holds  a  hundred  can- 
dles if  it  holds  one!  I  never  knew  before  all  there 
Was  in  that  phrase  '  the  candle-lighted  fifties.'  I 
can  imagine  what  it  looked  like,  with  the  men  in 
white  stocks  and  flowered  waistcoats  and  the  women 
in  their  crinolines  and  red-heeled  slippers,  bowing 
to  the  minuet  under  that  candle-light!  I'll  bet  the 
girls  bred  in  this  neighborhood  won't  take  much  to 
the  turkey-trot  and  the  bunny-hug !" 


THE  HUNT  115 

He  went  thoughtfully  back  to  the  great  hall, 
where  sat  the  big  chest  on  which  lay  the  volume  of 
Lucile.  He  pushed  down  the  antique  wrought- 
iron  hasp  and  threw  up  the  lid.  It  was  filled  to  the 
brim  with  textures :  heavy  portieres  of  rose-damask, 
table-covers  of  faded  soft-toned  tapestry,  window- 
hangings  of  dull  green  —  all  with  tobacco-leaves  laid 
between  the  folds  and  sifted  thickly  over  with  the 
sparkling  white  powder.  At  the  bottom,  rolled  in 
tarry-smelling  paper,  he  found  a  half-dozen  thin, 
Persian  prayer-rugs. 

"  Phew !  "  he  whistled.  "  I  certainly  ought  to 
be  grateful  to  that  law  firm  that  '  inspected '  the 
place.  Think  of  the  things  lying  here  all  these 
years!  And  that  powder  everywhere!  It's  done 
the  work,  too,  for  there's  not  a  sign  of  moth. 
If  I'm  not  careful,  I'll  stumble  over  the  family 
plate  —  it  seems  to  be  about  the  only  thing  want- 
ing." 

The  mantelpiece,  beneath  the  shrouded  elk's 
head,  was  of  gray  marble  in  which  a  crest  was 
deeply  carved.  He  went  close  and  examined  it. 
"A  sable  greyhound,  rampant,  on  a  field  argent," 
he  said.  "That's  my  own  crest,  I  suppose." 
There  touched  him  again  the  same  eery  sensation 
of  acquaintance  that  had  possessed  him  with  his 
first  sight  of  the  house-front.  "  Somehow  it's 
familiar/'  he  muttered ;  **  where  have  I  seen  it  be- 
fore?" 


n6      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

He  thought  a  moment,  then  went  quickly  into 
the  library  and  began  to  ransack  the  trunk.  At 
length  he  found  a  small  box  containing  keepsakes 
of  various  kinds.  He  poured  the  medley  on  to  the 
table  —  an  uncut  moonstone,  an  amethyst-topped 
pencil  that  one  of  his  tutors  had  given  him  as  a 
boy,  a  tiger's  claw,  a  compass  and  what-not.  Among 
them  was  a  man's  seal-ring  with  a  crest  cut  in  a 
cornelian.  He  looked  at  it  closely.  It  was  the 
same  device. 

The  ring  had  been  his  father's.  Just  when  or 
how  it  had  come  into  his  possession  he  could  never 
remember.  It  had  lain  among  these  keepsakes  so 
many  years  that  he  had  almost  forgotten  its  ex- 
istence. He  had  never  worn  a  ring,  but  now,  as  he 
went  back  to  the  hall,  he  slipped  it  on  his  finger. 
The  motto  below  the  crest  was  worn  away,  but  it 
showed  clear  in  the  marble  of  the  hall-mantel:  / 
clinge. 

His  eyes  turned  from  the  carven  words  and 
strayed  to  the  pleasant  sunny  foliage  outside.  An 
arrogant  boast,  perhaps,  yet  in  the  event  well  justi- 
fied. Valiants  had  held  that  selfsame  slope  when 
the  encircling  forests  had  rung  with  war-whoop  and 
blazed  with  torture-fire.  They  had  held  on  through 
Revolution  and  Civil  War.  Good  and  bad,  abiding 
and  lawless,  every  generation  had  cleaved  stub- 
bornly to  its  acres.  /  clinge.  His  father  had  clung 
through  absence  that  seemed  to  have  been  almost 


THE  HUNT  117 

exile,  and  now  he,  the  last  Valiant,  was  come  to 
make  good  the  boast. 

His  gaze  wavered.  The  tail  of  his  eye  had 
caught  through  the  window  a  spurt  of  something 
dashing  and  vivid,  that  grazed  the  corner  of  a  far- 
off  field.  He  craned  his  neck,  but  it  had  passed  the 
line  of  his  vision.  The  next  moment,  however, 
there  came  trailing  on  the  satiny  stillness  the  high- 
keyed  ululation  of  a  horn,  and  an  instant  later  a 
long-drawn  hallo-o-o!  mixed  with  a  pattering 
chorus  of  yelps. 

He  went  close,  and  leaning  from  the  sill,  shaded 
his  eyes  with  his  hand.  The  noise  swelled  and 
rounded  in  volume ;  it  was  nearing  rapidly.  As  he 
looked,  the  hunt  dashed  into  full  view  between  the 
tree-boles  —  a  galloping  melee  of  khaki  and  scarlet, 
swarming  across  the  fresh  green  of  a  wheat  field, 
behind  a  spotted  swirl  of  hounds.  It  mounted  a 
rise,  dipped  momentarily  into  a  gully  and  then,  in  a 
narrow  sweeping  curve,  came  pounding  on  up  the 
long  slope,  directly  toward  the  house. 

"  Confound  it !  "  said  John  Valiant  belligerently ; 
"  they're  on  my  land !  " 

They  were  near  enough  now  for  him  to  hear  the 
voices  of  the  men,  calling  encouragement  to  the 
dogs,  and  to  see  the  white  ribbons  of  foam  across 
the  flanks  of  the  laboring  horses.  One  scarlet- 
coated  feminine  rider,  detached  from  the  bunch,  had 
spurred  in  advance  and  was  leading  by  a  clean  hun- 


n8       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

dred  yards,  bareheaded,  her  hat  fallen  back  to  the 
limit  of  its  ribbon  knotted  under  her  chin,  and  her 
waving  hair  gleaming  like  tarnished  gold. 

"  How  she  rides !  "  muttered  the  solitary  watcher. 
"  Cross-saddle,  of  course, —  the  sensible  little  sport! 
She'll  never  in  the  world  do  that  wall!  —  Yes,  by 
George !  "  For,  with  a  beseeching  cry  and  a  strain- 
ing tug,  she  had  fairly  lifted  her  big  golden-chest- 
nut hunter  over  the  high  barrier  in  a  leap  as  clean 
as  the  flight  of  a  flying  squirrel.  He  saw  her  learn 
forward  to  pat  the  wet  arching  neck  as  the  horse 
settled  again  into  its  pace. 

John  Valiant's  admiration  turned  to  delight 
"  Why,"  he  said,  "  it's  the  Lady-of-the-Roses !  " 

He  put  his  hands  on  the  sill  and  vaulted  to  the 
porch. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

SANCTUARY 

THE  tawny  scudding  streak  that  led  that  long 
chase  had  shot  into  the  yard,  turning  for  a 
last  desperate  double.  It  saw  the  man  in  the  fore- 
ground and  its  bounding,  agonized  little  wild  heart 
that  so  prayed  for  life,  gave  way.  With  a  final 
effort,  it  gained  the  porch  and  crouched  down  in  its 
corner,  an  abject,  sweated,  hunted  morsel,  at  hope- 
less bay. 

Li'ke  a  flash,  Valiant  stooped,  caught  the  shiver- 
ing thing  by  the  scruff,  and  as  its  snapping  jaws 
grazed  his  thumb,  dropped  it  through  the  open  win- 
dow behind  him.  "  Sanctuary !  "  quoth  he,  and 
banged  the  shutter  to. 

At  the  same  instant,  ns  the  place  overflowed  with 
a  pandemonium  of  nosing  leaping  hounds,  he  saw 
the  golden  chestnut  reined  sharply  down  among  the 
ragged  box-rows,  with  a  shamefaced  though  brazen 
knowledge  that  the  girl  who  rode  it  had  seen. 

She  sat  moveless,  her  head  held  high,  one  hand 
on  the  hunter's  foam-flecked  neck,  and  their  glances 
met  like  crossed  swords.  The  look  stirred  some- 
thing vague  and  deep  within  him.  For  an  unfor- 

119 


120      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

gettable  instant  their  eyes  held  each  other,  in  a 
gaze  rigid,  challenging,  almost  defiant ;  then  it  broke 
and  she  turned  to  the  rest  of  the  party  spurring  in 
a  galloping  zigzag:  a  genial-faced  man  of  middle 
age  in  khaki  who  sat  his  horse  like  a  cavalryman, 
a  younger  one  with  a  reckless  dark  face  and  straight 
black  hair,  and  following  these  a  half-dozen  youth- 
ful riders  of  both  sexes,  one  of  the  lads  heavily 
plastered  with  mud  from  a  wet  cropper,  and  the 
girls  chiefly  gasps  and  giggles. 

The  elder  of  the  two  men  pulled  up  beside  the 
leader,  his  astonished  eyes  sweeping  the  house- front, 
with  its  open  blinds,  the  wisp  of  smoke  curling 
from  the  kitchen  chimney.  '  He  said  something  to 
her,  and  she  nodded.  The  younger  man,  mean- 
while, had  flung  himself  from  his  horse,  a  wild- 
eyed  roan,  and  with  his  arm  thrust  through  its 
bridle,  strode  forward  among  the  welter  of  hounds, 
where  they  scurried  at  fault,  hither  and  thither, 
yelping  and  eager. 

"  What  rotten  luck !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Gone  to 
ground  after  twelve  miles!  After  him,  Tawny! 
You  mongrels !  Do  you  imagine  he's  up  a  tree  ? 
After  him,  Bulger !  Bring  him  here !  " 

He  glanced  up,  and  for  the  first  time  saw  the 
figure  in  tweeds  looking  on.  Valiant  was  attracted 
by  his  face,  its  dash  and  generosity  overlying  its  in- 
herent profligacv  and  weakness.  Dark  as  the  <rirl 
was  light,  his  features  had  the  same  delicate  chisel- 


SANCTUARY  121 

ing,  the  inbreeding,  nobility  and  indulgence  of  gen- 
erations. He  stared  a  moment,  and  the  somewhat 
supercilious  look  traveled  over  the  gazer,  from  dusty 
boots  to  waving  brown  hair. 

"  Oh !  "  he  said.  His  view  slowly  took  in  the 
evidences  of  occupation.  "  The  house  is  open,  I 
see.  Going  to  get  it  fit  for  occupancy,  I  presume  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

The  other  turned.  "Well,  Judge  Chalmers, 
what  do  you  think  of  that?  The  unexpected  has 
happened  at  last."  He  looked  again  at  the  porch. 
"Who's  to  occupy  it?" 

"  The  owner." 

"  Wonders  will  never  cease !  "  said  the  young  man 
easily,  shrugging.  "  Well,  our  quarry  is  here  some- 
where. From  the  way  the  dogs  act  I  should  say 
he's  bolted  into  the  house.  With  your  permission 
I'll  take  one  of  them  in  and  see."  He  stooped  and 
snapped  a  leash  on  a  dog-collar. 

"  I'm  really  very  sorry,"  said  Valiant,  "  but  I'm 
living  in  it  at  present." 

The  edge  of  a  smile  lifted  the  carefully  trained 
mustache  over  the  other's  white  teeth.  It  had  the 
perfectly  courteous  air  of  saying,  "Of  course,  if  you 
say  so.  But  — " 

Valiant  turned,  with  a  gesture  that  included  all. 
"If  you  care  to  dismount  and  rest,"  he  said,  "  I 
shall  be  honored,  though  I'm  afraid  I  can't  offer 
you  such  hospitality  as  I  should  wish." 


122       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

The  judge  raised  his  broad  soft  hat.  "  Thank 
you,  sir/'  he  said,  with  a  soft  accent  that  delight- 
fully disdained  the  letter  "  r."  "  But  we  mustn't  in- 
trude any  further.  As  you  know,  of  course,  the 
place  has  been  uninhabited  for  any  number  of  years, 
and  we  had  no  idea  it  was  to  acquire  a  tenant.  You 
will  overlook  our  riding  through,  I  hope.  I'm 
afraid  the  neighborhood  has  got  used  to  consid- 
ering this  a  sort  of  no-man's  land.  It's  a  pleasure 
to  know  that  the  Court  is  to  be  reclaimed,  sir. 
Come  along,  Chilly,"  he  added.  "  Our  fox  has  a 
burrow  under  the  house,  I  reckon  —  hang  the  cun- 
ing  little  devil !  " 

He  whistled  sharply  to  the  dogs,  who  came  leap- 
ing about  his  horse's  legs  for  their  meed  of  praise  — 
and  clubbing.  "  Down,  Fan !  Down  Trojan ! 
Come  on,  you  young  folks,  to  breakfast.  We've 
had  a  prime  run  of  it,  anyhow,  and  we'll  put  him 
up  another  day." 

He  waved  his  hat  at  the  porch  and  turned  his 
horse  down  the  path,  side  by  side  with  the  golden 
chestnut.  After  them  trooped  the  others,  horses 
walking  wearily,  riders  talking  in  low  voices,  the 
girls  turning  often  to  send  swift  bird-like  glances 
behind  them  to  where  the  straight  masculine  figure 
still  stood  with  the  yellow  sunshine  on  his  face. 
They  did  not  leap  the  wall  this  time,  but  filed  de- 
corously through  the  swinging  gate  to  the  Red 
Road.  Then,  as  they  passed  from  view  behind  the 


SANCTUARY  123 

hedges,  John  Valiant  heard  the  younger  voices  break 
out  together  like  the  sound  of  a  bomb  thrown  into  a 
poultry-yard. 

After  a  time  he  saw  the  straggling  bunch  of 
riders  emerge  at  a  slow  canter  on  the  far-away 
field.  He  saw  the  roan  spurred  beside  the  golden 
chestnut  and  both  dashed  away,  neck  and  neck  in  a 
race,  the  light  patrician  form  of  the  man  leaning 
far  forward  and  the  girl  swaying  to  the  pace  as  if 
she  and  her  hunter  were  one. 

John  Valiant  stood  watching  till  the  last  rider 
was  out  of  sight.  There  was  a  warm  flush  of  color 
in  his  face. 

At  length  he  turned  with  the  ghost  of  a  sigh, 
opened  the  hall  door  wide  and  stalking  a  hundred 
yards  away,  sat  down  on  the  shady  grass  and  began 
to  whistle,  with  his  eyes  on  the  door. 

Presently  he  was  rewarded.  On  a  sudden, 
around  the  edge  of  the  sill  peered  a  sharp,  sus- 
picious little  muzzle.  Then,  like  a  flash  of  tawny 
light,  the  fox  broke  sanctuary  and  shot  for  the 
thicket 


CHAPTER  XV 

MRS.    POLY   GIFFORD    PAYS    A    CALL 

THE  brown  ivied  house  in  the  village  was  big 
and  square  and  faced  the  sleepy  street.  Its 
front  was  gay  with  pink  oleanders  in  green  tubs  and 
the  yard  spotted  with  annual  encampments  of  ge- 
raniums and  marigolds.  A  one-storied  wing  con- 
tained a  small  door  with  a  doctor's  brass  plate  on 
the  clapboarding  beside  it.  Doctor  Southall  was 
one  of  Mrs.  Merry  weather  Mason's  paying 
guests  —  for  she  would  have  deemed  the  word 
boarder  a  gratuitous  insult,  no  less  to  them  than 
to  her.  Another  was  the  major,  who  for  a  decade 
had  occupied  the  big  old-fashioned  corner-room  on 
the  second  floor,  companioned  by  a  monstrous  gray 
cat  and  waited  on  by  an  ancient  negro  named  Jere- 
boam,  who  had  been  a  slave  of  his  father's. 

The  doctor  was  a  sallow  taciturn  man  with  a 
saturnine  face,  eyebrows  like  frosted  thistles,  a 
mouth  as  if  made  with  one  quick  knife-slash  and 
a  head  nearly  bald,  set  on  a  neck  that  would  not 
have  disqualified  a  yearling  ox.  His  broad  shoul- 
ders were  slightly  stooped,  and  his  mouth  wore  ha- 
bitually an  expression  half  resentful,  half  sardonic, 

124 


MRS.  GIFFORD  PAYS  A  CALL       125 

conveying  a  cynical  opinion  of  the  motives  of  the 
race  in  general  and  of  the  special  depravity  of  that 
particular  countryside.  Altogether  he  exhaled  an 
air  in  contrast  to  which  the  major's  old-school 
blend  of  charm  and  courtesy  seemed  an  almost  ribald 
frivolity. 

On  this  particular  morning  neither  the  major  nor 
the  doctor  was  in  evidence,  the  former  having  gone 
out  early,  and  the  latter  being  at  the  moment  in 
his  office,  as  the  brassy  buzz  of  a  telephone  from 
time  to  time  announced.  Two  of  the  green  wicker 
rocking-chairs  on  the  porch,  however,  were  in  agi- 
tant  commotion.  Mrs.  Mason  was  receiving  a 
caller  in  the  person  of  Mrs.  Napoleon  GifTord. 

The  latter  had  a  middle-aged  affection  for  baby- 
blue  and  a  devouring  penchant  for  the  ages  and  an- 
tecedents of  others,  at  times  irksome  to  those  to 
whom  her  "  Let  me  see.  You  went  to  school  with 
my  first  husband's  sister,  didn't  you?"  or  "Your 
daughter  Jane  must  have  been  married  the  year  the 
old  Israel  Stamper  place  was  burned/'  were  unwel- 
come reminders  of  the  pace  of  time.  To-day,  of 
course,  the  topic  was  the  new  arrival  at  Damory 
Court. 

"  After  all  these  years! "  the  visitor  was  saying  in 
her  customary  italics.  (The  broad  "  a  "  which  lent 
a  dulcet  softness  to  the  speech  of  her  hostess  was 
scorned  by  Mrs.  Poly,  her  own  "  a's  "  being  as  nar- 
row as  the  needle  through  which  the  rich  man 


126      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

reaches  heaven.)  "  We  came  here  from  Richmond 
when  I  was  a  bride  —  that's  twenty-one  years  ago 
—  and  Damory  Court  was  forsaken  then.  And 
think  what  a  condition  the  house  must  be  in  now? 
Cared  for  by  an  agent  who  comes  every  other 
season  from  New  York.  Trust  a  man  to  do  work 
like  that!" 

"  I'm  glad  a  Valiant  is  to  occupy  it,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Mason  in  her  sweet  flute-like  voice.  "  It 
would  be  sad  to  see  any  one  else  there.  For  after 
all,  the  Valiants  were  gentlemen." 

Mrs.  Gifford  sniffed.  "  Would  you  have  called 
Devil-John  Valiant  a  gentleman?  Why,  he  earned 
the  name  by  the  dreadful  things  he  did.  My 
grandfather  used  to  say  that  when  his  wife  lay 
sick  —  he  hated  her,  you  know  —  he  would  gallop 
his  horse  with  all  his  hounds  full-cry  after  him 
under  her  windows.  Then  that  ghastly  story  of 
the  slave  he  pressed  to  death  in  the  hogshead  of  to- 
bacco." 

"  I  know,"  acquiesced  Mrs.  Mason.  "  He  was 
a  cruel  man,  and  wicked,  too.  Yet  of  course  he  was 
a  gentleman.  In  the  South  the  test  of  a  gentle- 
man has  never  been  what  he  does,  but  who  he  is. 
Devil-John  was  splendid,  for  all  his  wickedness. 
He  was  the  best  swordsman  in  all  Virginia.  It 
used  to  be  said  there  was  a  portrait  of  him  at 
Damory  Court,  and  that  during  the  war,  in  the  en- 
gagement on  the  hillside,  a  bullet  took  out  one  of 


MRS.  GIFFORD  PAYS  A  CALL       127 

its  eyes.  But  his  grandson,  Beauty  Valiant,  who 
lived  at  Damory  Court  thirty  years  ago,  wasn't  his 
type  at  all.  He  was  only  twenty-five  when  the  duel 
occurred." 

"  He  must  have  been  brilliant,"  said  the  visitor, 
"  to  have  founded  that  great  Corporation.  It's  a 
pity  the  son  didn't  take  after  him.  Have  you  seen 
the  papers  lately?  It  seems  that  though  he  was  to 
blame  for  the  wrecking  of  the  concern  they  can't  do 
anything  to  him.  Some  technicality  in  the  law,  I 
suppose.  But  if  a  man  is  only  rich  enough  they 
can't  convict  him  of  anything.  Why  he  should  sud- 
denly make  up  his  mind  to  come  down  here  I  can't 
see.  With  that  old  affair  of  his  father's  behind 
him,  I  should  think  he'd  prefer  Patagonia.'* 

"  I  take  it,  then,  madam,"  Doctor  Southall's  for- 
bidding voice  rose  from  the  doorway,  "  that  you 
are  familiar  with  the  circumstances  of  that  old 
affair,  as  you  term  it  ?  " 

The  lady  bridled.  Her  passages  at  arms  with  the 
doctor  did  not  invariably  tend  to  sweeten  her  dis- 
position. "  I'm  sure  I  only  know  what  people  say," 
she  said. 

"'People?'"  snorted  the  doctor  irascibly. 
"  Just  another  name  for  a  community  that's  a  per- 
fect sink  of  meanness  and  malice.  If  one  believed 
all  he  heard  here  he'd  quit  speaking  to  his  own 
grandmother." 

"  You  will  admit,  I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Gifford 


128      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

with  some  spirit,  "  that  the  name  Valiant  isn't  what 
it  used  to  be  in  this  neighborhood?  " 

"  I  will,  madam,"  responded  the  doctor.  "  When 
Valiant  left  this  place  (a  mark  of  good  taste,  I've 
always  considered  it)  he  left  it  the  worse,  if  possible, 
for  his  departure.  Your  remark,  however,  would 
seem  to  imply  demerit  on  his  part.  Was  he  the 
only  man  who  ever  happened  to  be  at  the  lucky  end 
of  a  dueling-ground  ?  " 

"  Then  it  isn't  true  that  Valiant  was  a  dead  shot 
and  Sassoon  intoxicated  ?  " 

"  Madam,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  have  no  wish  to 
discuss  the  details  of  that  unhappy  incident  with 
you  or  anybody  else.  I  was  one  of  those  present, 
but  the  circumstances  you  mention  have  never  been 
descanted  upon  by  me.  I  merely  wish  to  point  out 
that  the  people  whom  you  have  been  quoting,  are 
not  only  a  set  of  ignoramuses  with  cotton-back 
souls,  but  as  full  of  uncharitableness  as  an  egg  is  of 


meat." 


"  I  see  by  the  papers,"  said  Mrs.  Gifford,  with 
an  air  of  resignedly  changing  the  subject,  "  they've 
been  investigating  the  failure  of  the  Valiant  Cor- 
poration. The  son  seems  to  be  getting  the  sharp 
end  of  the  stick.  Perhaps  he's  coming  down  here 
because  they've  made  it  so  hot  for  him  in  New 
York.  Well,  I'm  afraid  he'll  find  this  county  dis- 
appointing." 

"  He   will   that !  "   agreed   the    doctor   savagely. 


MRS.  GIFFORD  PAYS  A  CALL       129 

"  No  doubt  he  imagines  he's  coming  to  a  kindly 
countryside  of  gentle-born  people  with  souls  and 
imaginations;  he'll  find  he's  lit  in  a  section  that's 
entirely  too  ready  to  hack  at  his  father's  name  and 
prepared  in  advance  to  call  him  Northern  scum 
and  turn  up  its  nose  at  his  accent  —  a  community 
so  full  of  dyed-in-the-wool  snobbery  that  it  would 
make  Boston  look  like  a  poor-white  barbecue.  I'm 
sorry  for  him!" 

Mrs.  Gifford,  having  learned  wisdom  from  ex- 
perience, resisted  the  temptation  to  reply.  She 
merely  rocked  a  trifle  faster  and  turned  a  smile 
which  she  strove  to  make  amusedly  deprecative  upon 
her  hostess.  Just  then  from  the  rear  of  the  house 
came  a  strident  voice : 

"  Yo',  Raph'el !  Take  yo'  han's  outer  dem  cher- 
ries! Don'  yo'  know  ef  yo'  s wallahs  dem  ar  pits, 
yo'  gwineter  hab  'pendeg^etus  en  lump  up  en  die  ?  " 

The  sound  of  a  slap  and  a  shrill  yelp  followed, 
and  around  the  porch  dashed  an  infantile  darky,  as 
nude  as  a  black  Puck,  with  his  hands  full  of  cher- 
ries, who  came  to  a  sudden  demoralized  stop  in  the 
embarrassing  foreground.  •*• 

"  Raph !  "  thundered  the  doctor.  "  Didn't  I  tell 
you  to  go  back  to  that  kitchen  ?  " 

"  Yas,  suh,"  responded  the  imp.  "  But  yo'  didn' 
fell  me  ter  stay  dar !  " 

"  If  I  see  you  out  here  again,"  roared  the  doctor, 
*'  Til  tie  your  ears  back  —  and  grease  you  —  and 


i3o      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

SWALLOW  you !  "  At  which  grisly  threat,  the  ap- 
parition, with  a  shrill  shriek,  turned  and  ran  des- 
perately for  the  corner  of  the  house. 

"  I  hear,"  said  the  doctor,  resuming,  "  that  the 
young  man  who  came  to  fix  the  place  up  has  hired 
Uncle  Jefferson  and  his  wife  to  help  him.  Who's 
responsible  for  that  interesting  information  ?  " 

"  Rickey  Snyder,"  said  Mrs.  Mason.  "  She's 
got  a  spy-glass  rigged  up  in  a  sugar-tree  at  Miss 
Mattie  Sue's  and  she  saw  them  pottering  around 
there  this  morning." 

"  Little  limb!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Gifford,  with  em- 
phasis. "  She's  as  cheeky  as  a  town-hog.  I  can't 
imagine  what  Shirley  Dandridge  was  thinking  of 
when  she  brought  that  low-born  child  out  of  her 
sphere." 

Something  like  a  growl  came  from  the  doctor  as 
he  struck  open  the  screen-door.  "  '  Limb ! '  I'll 
bet  ten  dollars  she's  an  angel  in  a  cedar-tree  at  a 
church  fair  compared  with  some  better-born 
young  ones  I  know  of  who  are  only  fit  to  live  when 
they've  got  the  scarlet- fever  and  who  ought  to  be 
in  the  reformatory  long  ago.  And  as  for  Shirley 
Dandridge,  it's  my  opinion  she  and  her  mother  and 
a  few  others  like  her  have  got  about  the  only  drops 
of  the  milk  of  human  kindness  in  this  whole  aban- 
doned community !  " 

"  Dreadful  man !  "  said  Mrs.  Gifford,  sotto  voce, 
as  the  door  banged  viciously.  "  To  think  of  his 


MRS.  GIFFORD  PAYS  A  CALL       131 

being  born  a  Southall!  Sometimes  I  can't  believe 
it!" 

Mrs.  Mason  shook  her  head  and  smiled.  "  Ah, 
but  that  isn't  the  real  Doctor  Southall/'  she  said. 
"  That's  only  his  shell." 

"  I've  heard  that  he  has  another  side,"  responded 
the  other  with  guarded  grimness,  "  but  if  he  has, 
I  wish  he'd  manage  to  show  it  sometimes." 

Mrs.  Mason  took  off  her  glasses  and  wiped  them 
carefully.  "  I  saw  it  when  my  husband  died,"  she 
said  softly.  "  That  was  before  you  came.  They 
were  old  friends,  you  know.  He  was  sick  almost 
a  year,  and  the  doctor  used  to  carry  him  out  here 
on  the  porch  every  day  in  his  arms,  like  a  child. 
And  then,  when  the  typhus  came  that  summer 
among  the  negroes,  he  quarantined  himself  with 
them  —  the  only  white  man  there  —  and  treated 
and  nursed  them  and  buried  the  dead  with  his  own 
hands,  till  it  was  stamped  out.  That's  the  real 
Doctor  Southall." 

The  rockers  vibrated  in  silence  for  a  moment. 
Then  Mrs.  Gifford  said :  "  I  never  knew  before 
that  he  had  anything  to  do  with  that  duel.  Was 
he  one  of  Valiant's  seconds?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Mason ;  "  and  the  major  was 
the  other.  I  was  a  little  girl  when  it  happened.  I 
can  barely  remember  it,  but  it  made  a  big  sensa- 
tion." 

"  And  over  a  love-affair !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Gif- 


132      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

ford  in  the  tone  of  one  to  whom  romance  was  daily 
brea4- 

"  I  suppose  it  was." 

"  Why,  my  dear!  Of  course  it  was.  That's  al- 
ways been  the  story.  What  on  earth  have  men 
to  fight  duels  about  except  us  women?  They  only 
pretend  it's  cards  or  horses.  Trust  me,  there's 
always  a  pair  of  silk  stockings  at  the  bottom  of  it! 
Girls  are  so  thoughtless  —  though  you  and  I  were 
just  as  bad,  I  suppose,  if  we  only  remembered!  — 
and  they  don't  realize  that  it's  sometimes  a  serious 
thing  to  trifle  with  a  man.  That  is,  of  course,  if 
he's  of  a  certain  type.  /  think  our  Virginian  girls 
flirt  outrageously.  They  quit  only  at  the  church 
door  (though  I  will  say  they  generally  stop  then) 
and  they  take  a  man's  ring  without  any  idea  what- 
ever of  the  sacredness  of  an  engagement.  You 
remember  lisa  Eustis  who  married  the  man  from 
Petersburg?  She  was  engaged  to  two  men  at  once, 
and  used  to  wear  whichever  ring  belonged  to  the 
one  who  was  coming  to  see  her.  One  day  they 
came  together.  She  was  in  the  yard  when  they 
stopped  at  the  horse-block.  Well,  she  tied  her 
handkerchief  round  her  hand  and  said  she'd  burned 
herself  pulling  candy.  (No,  neither  one  of  them 
was  the  man  from  Petersburg.)  When  she  was 
married,  one  of  them  wrote  her  and  asked  for  his 
ring.  It  had  seven  diamonds  set  in  the  shape  of  a 
cross.  I'm  telling  you  this  in  confidence,  just  as 


MRS.  GIFFORD  PAYS  A  CALL       133 

it  was  told  to  me.  She  didn't  write  a  reply  —  she 
only  sent  him  a  telegram :  *  Simply  to  thy  cross  I 
cling/  She  wears  the  stones  yet  in  a  bracelet." 

For  a  time  the  conversation  languished.  Then 
Mrs.  Gifford  asked  suddenly :  "  Who  do  you  sup- 
pose she  could  have  been  ?  —  the  girl  behind  that  old 
Valiant  affair." 

Mrs.  Mason  shook  her  head.  "  No  one  knows 
for  certain  —  unless,  of  course,  the  major  or  the 
doctor,  and  I  wouldn't  question  either  of  them  for 
worlds.  You  see,  people  had  stopped  gossiping 
about  it  before  I  was  out  of  school." 

"  But  surely  your  husband  — " 

"  The  only  quarrel  we  had  while  we  were  en- 
gaged was  over  that.  I  tried  to  make  him  tell  me. 
I  imagined  from  something  he  said  then  that  the 
young  men  who  did  know  had  pledged  one  another 
not  to  speak  of  it." 

"  I  wonder  why?  "  said  the  other  thoughtfully. 

"  Oh,  undoubtedly  out  of  regard  for  the  girl. 
I've  always  thought  it  so  decent  of  them!  If  there 
was  a  girl  in  the  case,  her  position  must  have  been 
tinpleasant  enough,  if  she  was  not  actually  heart- 
broken. Imagine  the  poor  thing,  knowing  that 
wherever  she  went,  people  would  be  saying :  '  She's 
the  one  they  fought  the  duel  over !  Look  at  her ! ' 
If  she  grieved,  they'd  say  she'd  been  crazy  in  love 
with  Sassoon,  and  point  out  the  dark  circles  under 
her  eyes,  and  wonder  if  she'd  ever  get  over  it. 


I34      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

If  she  didn't  mope,  they'd  say  she  was  in  love  with 
Valiant  and  was  glad  it  was  Sassoon  who  was 
shot.  If  she  shut  herself  up,  they'd  say  she  had  no 
pride;  if  she  didn't,  they'd  say  she  had  no  heart. 
It  was  far  better  to  cover  the  story  up  and  let  it 
die." 

But  the  subject  was  too  fascinating  for  her  morn- 
ing visitor  to  abandon.  "  She  probably  loved  one 
of  "them,"  she  said.  "I  wonder  which  it  was.  I'll 
ask  the  major  when  I  see  him.  I'm  not  afraid. 
He  can't  eat  me !  Wouldn't  it  be  curious"  she  con- 
tinued, "if  it  should  be  somebody  who  lives  here 
now  —  whom  we've  always  known !  I  can't  think 
who  it  could  have  been,  though.  There's  Jenny 
Quarles  —  she's  eight  years  older  than  we  are,  if 
she's  a  day  —  she  was  a  nice  little  thing,  but  you 
couldn't  dream  of  anybody  ever  fighting  a  duel 
over  her.  There's  Polly  Pendleton,  and  Berenice 
Garland  —  they  must  have  been  about  the  right  age, 
and  they  never  married  —  but  no,  it  couldn't  have 
been  either  of  them.  The  only  other  spinster  I  can 
think  of  is  Miss  Mattie  Sue,  and  she  was  as  poor 
as  Job's  turkey  and  teaching  school.  Besides,  she 
must  have  been  years  and  years  too  old.  Hush! 
There's  Major  Bristow  at  the  gate  now.  And  the 
doctor's  just  coming  out  again." 

The  major  wore  a  suit  of  white  linen,  with  a 
broad-brimmed  straw  hat,  and  a  pink  was  in  his 
button-hole,  but  to  the  observing,  his  step  might 


MRS.  GIFFORD  PAYS  A  CALL       135 

ha%e  seemed  to  tack  an  accustomed  jauntiness.  As 
he  came  up  the  path  the  doctor  opened  his  office 
door.  Standing  on  the  threshold,  his  legs  wide 
apart  and  his  hands  under  his  coat-tails,  he  nodded 
grimly  across  the  marigolds.  "  How  do  you  feel 
this  morning,  Major." 

"  Feel  ?  "  rumbled  the  major ;  "  the  way  any  gen- 
tleman ought  to  feel  this  time  of  the  morning,  sah. 
Like  hell,  sah." 

The  doctor  bent  his  gaze  on  the  hilarious  blos- 
som in  the  other's  lapel.  "  If  I  were  you,  Bristow," 
he  said  scathingly,  "  I  reckon  I'd  quit  galivanting 
around  to  bridge-fights  with  perfumery  on  my  hand- 
kerchief every  evening.  It's  a  devil  of  an  example 
to  the  young." 

The  rocking-chairs  behind  the  screening  vines  be- 
came motionless,  and  the  ladies  exchanged  surrepti- 
tious smiles.  If  the  two  gentlemen  were  aware 
of  each  other's  sterling  qualities,  their  mutual  ap- 
preciation was  in  inverse  ratio  to  its  expression, 
and,  as  the  Elucinian  mysteries,  cloaked  before  the 
world.  In  public  the  doctor  was  wont  to  remark 
that  the  major  talked  like  a  Caesar,  looked  like  a 
piano-tuner  and  was  the  only  man  he  had  ever  seen 
who  could  strut  sitting  down.  Never  were  his 
gibes  so  barbed  as  when  launched  against  the  ma- 
jor's white- waistcoated  and  patrician  calm,  and  con- 
versely, never  did  the  major's  bland  suavity  so 
nearly  approach  an  undignified  irritation  as  when 


136      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

receiving  the  envenomed  darts  of  that  accomplished 
cynic. 

The  major  settled  his  black  tie.  "  A  little  whole- 
some exercise  wouldn't  be  a  bad  thing  for  you, 
Doctor,"  he  said  succinctly.  "  You're  looking  a 
shade  pasty  to-day." 

"  Exercise !  "  snapped  the  other  viciously,  as  he 
pounded  down  the  steps.  "  Ha,  ha !  I  suppose 
you  exercise  —  lazying  out  to  the  Dandridges 
once  a  week  for  a  julep,  and  the  rest  of  the  time 
wearing  out  good  cane-bottoms  and  palm-leaf  fans 
and  cussing  at  the  heat.  You'll  go  off  with  apoplexy 
one  of  these  days." 

"  I  shall  if  they're  scared  enough  to  call  you'9  the 
major  shot  after  him,  nettled.  But  the  doctor  did 
not  pause.  He  went  on  down  the  street  without 
turning  his  head. 

The  major  lifted  his  hat  gallantly  to  the  ladies, 
whose  presence  he  had  just  observed.  "  I  reckon," 
he  said,  as  he  found  the  string  of  his  glasses  and 
adjusted  them  to  gaze  after  the  retreating  form ;  "  I 
reckon  if  I  did  have  apoplexy,  I'd  want  Southall  to 
handle  the  case,  but  the  temptation  to  get  one  in  on 
him  is  sometimes  a  little  too  much  for  me." 

"Do  sit  down,  Major,"  said  Mrs.  Gifford. 
"  There's  a  question  I'm  just  dying  to  ask  you. 
We've  had  such  an  interesting  conversation. 
You've  heard  the  news,  of  course,  that  young  Mr. 
Valiant  is  coming  to  Damory  Court  ?  " 


MRS.  GIFFORD  PAYS  A  CALL       137 

The  major  sat  down  heavily.  In  the  bright  light 
his  face  seemed  suddenly  pale  and  old. 

"  No  ?  "  the  lady's  tone  was  arch.  "  Have  all  the 
rest  of  us  really  got  ahead  of  you  for  once?  Yes, 
it's  true.  There's  some  one  there  getting  it  to 
rights.  Now  here's  the  question.  There  was  a 
woman,  of  course,  at  the  bottom  of  the  Valiant  duel. 
I'd  never  dream  of  asking  you  who  she  was.  But 
which  was  it  she  loved,  Valiant  or  Sassoon  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   ECHO 

WHEN  the  major  entered  his  room,  Jere- 
boam,  his  ancient  body-servant,  was 
dawdling  about  putting  things  to  rights,  his  seamed 
visage  under  his  white  wool  suggesting  a  charred 
stump  beneath  a  crisp  powdering  of  snow.  "  Jedge 
Chalmahs  done  telly  foam  ter  ax  yo'  ovah  ter  Glad- 
den Hall  ter  suppah  ter-night,  suh,"  he  said.  "  De 
jedge  'low  he  gwine  git  eben  wid  yo'  fo'  dat  las' 
game  ob  pokah  when  yo'  done  lam  him." 

"  Tell  him  not  to-night,  Jerry,"  said  the  other 
wearily.  ll  Some  other  time." 

The  old  darky  ruminated  as  he  plodded  down  to 
the  doctor's  telephone.  "  Whut  de  mattah  now  ? 
He  got  dat  ar  way-off-yondah  look  ergen."  He 
shook  his  head  forebodingly.  "  Ah  heahed  he 
hummin'  dat  tune  when  he  dress  hisse'f  dis  mawnin'. 
Sing  befo'  yo'  eat,  cry  befo'  yo'  sleep !  " 

The  major  had,  indeed,  a  far-away  look  as  he 
sat  there,  a  heavy  lonely  figure,  that  bright  morn- 
ing. It  had  slipped  to  his  face  with  the  news  of  the 
arrival  at  Damory  Court.  He  told  himself  that  he 
felt  queer.  A  mocking-bird  was  singing  in  a 

138 


THE  ECHO  139 

tulip-tree  outside,  and  the  gray  cat"  sat  on  the  win- 
dow-sill, watching  the  foliage  with  blinking  lust. 
There  was  no  breeze  and  the  leaves  of  the  Virginia 
creeper  that  curled  about  the  sash  were  trembling 
with  the  sensuous  delight  of  the  sunshine.  Suddenly 
he  seemed  to  hear  elfin  voices  close  to  his  ear : 

"  Which  was  it  she  loved f  Valiant  or  S as- 
soon?" 

It  was  so  distinct  that  he  started,  vexed  and  dis- 
turbed. Really,  it  was  absurd.  He  would  be  see- 
ing things  next !  "  Southall  may  be  right  about 
that  exercise,"  he  muttered;  "  I'll  walk  more."  He 
began  the  projected  reform  without  delay,  striding 
up  and  down  the  room.  But  the  little  voices  pres- 
ently sounded  again,  shouting  like  gnomes  inside  a 
hill: 

"  Which  was  it?     Valiant  or  Sassoon?  " 

"  I  wish  to  God  I  knew ! "  said  the  major 
roughly,  standing  still.  It  silenced  them,  but  the 
sound  of  his  own  voice,  as  though  it  had  been  a  pre- 
concerted signal,  drew  together  a  hundred  inchoate 
images  of  other  days.  There  was  the  well-ordered 
garden  of  Damory  Court  —  it  rose  up,  gloomy  with 
night  shadows,  across  his  great  clothes-press  against 
the  wall  —  with  himself  sitting  on  a  rustic  bench 
smoking  and  behind  him  the  candle-lighted  library 
window  with  Beauty  Valiant  pacing  up  and  down, 
waiting  for  daylight.  There  was  a  sun-lighted 
stretch  between  two  hemlocks,  with  Southall  and 


140      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

he  measuring  the  ground  —  the  grass  all  dewy 
sparkles  and  an  early  robin  teetering  on  a  thorn- 
bush.  Eight  —  nine  —  ten  —  he  caught  himself 
counting  the  paces. 

He  wiped  his  forehead.  Between  the  hemlocks 
now  were  two  figures  facing  each  other,  one 
twitching  uncertainly,  the  other  palely  rigid ;  and  at 
one  side,  held  screen-wise,  a  raised  umbrella.  In 
some  ghostly  way  he  could  see  straight  through  the 
latter  —  see  the  doctor's  hand  gripping  the  handle, 
his  own,  outstretched  beyond  its  edge,  holding  a 
handkerchief  ready  to  flutter  down.  A  silly  sub- 
terfuge those  umbrellas,  but  there  must  be  no  actual 
witnesses  to  the  final  act  of  a  "  gentlemen's  meet- 
ing"! A  silly  code,  the  whole  of  it,  now  happily 
outgrown!  He  thought  thus  with  a  kind  of  dumb 
irritant  wonder,  while  the  green  picture  hung  a 
moment  —  as  a  stone  thrown  in  air  hangs  poised 
at  height  before  it  falls  —  then  dissolved  itself  in 
two  sharp  crackles,  with  a  gasping  interval  between. 
The  scene  blurred  into  a  single  figure  huddling  down 
—  huddling  down  — 

"  Which  did  she  love? "  The  major  shook  his 
head  helplessly.  It  was,  after  all,  only  the  echo, 
become  all  at  once  audible  on  a  shallow  woman's 
lips,  of  a  question  that  had  always  haunted  him. 
It  had  first  come  to  him  on  the  heels  of  that  duel, 
when  he  had  stood,  somewhat  later  that  hateful 
morning,  holding  a  saddled  horse  before  the  big 


THE  ECHO  141 

pillared  porch.  It  had  whispered  itself  then  from 
every  moving  leaf.  "  Sassoon  or  Valiant?  'l  If  she 
had  loved  Sassoon,  of  what  use  the  letter  Valiant 
was  so  long  penning  in  the  library?  But  —  if  it 
were  Valiant  she  loved?  The  man  who,  having 
sworn  not  to  lift  his  hand  against  the  other,  had 
broken  his  sacred  word  to  her!  Who  had  stained 
the  unwritten  code  by  facing  an  opponent  maddened 
with  liquor!  Yet,  what  was  there  a  woman  might 
not  condone  in  the  one  man  ?  Would  she  read,  for- 
give and  send  for  him? 

The  major  laughed  out  suddenly,  harshly,  in  the 
quiet  room,  and  looked  down  as  if  he  expected  to 
see  that  letter  still  lying  in  his  hand.  But  the  laugh 
could  not  still  a  regular  pulsing  sound  that  was  in 
his  ears  —  elfin  like  the  voices,  but  as  distinct  — 
the  sound  of  a  horse's  hoofs  going  from  Damory 
Court. 

He  had  heard  those  hoof-beats  echo  in  his  brain 
for  thirty  years! 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE   TRESPASSER 

TILL  the  sun  was  high  John  Valiant  lay  on 
his  back  in  the  fragrant  grass,  meditatively 
watching  a  bucaneering  chicken-hawk  draw  widen- 
ing circles  against  the  blue  and  listening  to  the 
vibrant  tattoo  of  a  "  pecker-wood  "  on  a  far-away 
tree,  and  the  timorous  wet  whistle  of  a  bob-white. 
The  sun  shone  through  the  tracery  of  the  foliage, 
making  a  quivering  mosaic  of  light  and  shadow  all 
about  him.  A  robin  ran  across  the  grass  with  his 
breast  puffed  out  as  if  he  had  been  stealing  apples; 
now  and  then  an  inquisitive  yellow-hammer  darted 
above  and  in  the  bushes  cardinals  wove  slender 
sharp  flashes  of  living  crimson.  The  whole  place 
was  very  quiet  now.  For  just  one  thrilling  mo- 
ment it  had  burgeoned  into  sound  and  movement: 
when  the  sweaty  horses  had  stood  snorting  and 
stamping  in  the  yard  with  the  hounds  scampering 
between  their  legs  and  the  riding-coats  winking  like 
rubies  in  the  early  sunshine ! 

Had  she  recognized  him  as  the  smudged  tinkerer 
of  the  stalled  car  ?    "  She  saw  me  drop  that  wretched 

142 


THE  TRESPASSER  143 

brute  through  the  window,"  he  chuckled.  "  I  could 
take  oath  to  that.  But  she  didn't  give  me  away, 
true  little  sport  that  she  was.  And  she  won't.  I 
can't  think  of  any  reason,  but  I  know."  The 
chuckle  broadened  to  an  appreciative  grin.  "  What 
an  ass  she  must  have  thought  me !  To  risk  a  nasty 
bite  and  rob  her  of  her  brush  into  the  bargain! 
How  she  looked  at  me,  just  for  a  minute,  with  that 
thoroughbred  face,  out  of  those  sea-deep  eyes,  under 
that  whorling,  marvelous  heaped-up  hair  of  hers! 
Was  she  angry  ?  I  wonder !  " 

At  length  he  rose  and  went  back  to  the  house. 
With  a  bunch  of  keys  he  had  found  he  went  to 
the  stables,  after  some  difficulty  gained  access,  and 
propped  the  crazy  doors  and  windows  open  to  the 
sun.  The  building  was  airy  and  well-lighted  and 
contained  a  dozen  roomy  box-stalls,  a  spacious  loft 
and  a  carriage-house.  The  straw  bedding  had  been 
unremoved,  mice-gnawed  sacking  and  rotted  hay 
lay  in  the  mangers,  and  the  warped  harness,  hang- 
ing on  its  pegs,  was  a  smelly  mass  of  mildew  and 
decay.  In  the  carriage-house  were  three  vehicles 
—  a  coach  with  rat-riddled  upholstery  and  old- 
fashioned  hoop-iron  springs  eaten  through  with 
rust,  a  rockaway  and  a  surrey.  The  latter  had 
collapsed  where  it  stood.  He  found  a  stick,  mowed 
away  the  festooning  cobwebs,  and  moved  the  debris 
piece-meal. 

"There!"  he  said  with  satisfaction.  "There's  a 


144       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

place  for  the  motor  —  if  Uncle  Jefferson  ever  gets 
it  here." 

It  was  noon  when  he  returned,  after  a  wash-up 
in  the  lake,  to  the  meal  with  which  Aunt  Daphne, 
in  a  costume  dimly  suggestive  of  a  bran-meal  poul- 
tice with  a  gingham  apron  on,  regaled  him.  Fried 
chicken,  corn-bread  so  soft  and  fluffy  that  it  had 
to  be  lifted  from  the  pan  with  a  spoon,  browned 
potatoes,  and  to  his  surprise,  fresh  milk.  "  Ah 
done  druv  ouah  ol'  cow  ovah,  suh,"  explained  Aunt 
Daphne.  "  'Case  she  gotter  be  milked,  er  she  run 
dry  ez  de  Red  Sea  fo'  de  chillen  ob  Izril." 

"  Aunt  Daphne,"  inquired  Valiant  with  his  mouth 
full,  "  what  do  you  call  this  green  thing?  " 

"Dat?  Dat's  jes'  turnip-tops,  suh,  wid  er  hunk 
er  bacon  in  de  pot.  Laws-er-me,  et  cert'n'y  do  me 
good  ter  see  yo'  git  arter  it  dat  way,  suh.  Reckon 
yo'  got  er  appertite !  Hyuh,  Hyuh !  " 

"  I  have.  I  never  guessed  it  before,  and  it's  a 
magnificent  discovery.  However,  it  suggests  un- 
welcome reflections.  Aunt  Daphne,  how  long  do 
you  estimate  a  man  can  dine  like  this  on  —  well,  sa) 
on  a  hundred  dollars?" 

"  Er  hun'ed  dollahs,  suh  ?  Dat's  er  right  smart 
heap  o'  money,  'deed  et  is!  Well,  suh,  'pen's  on 
whut  yo'  raises.  Ef  yo'  raises  yo'  own  gyarden- 
sass,  en  chick'ns  en  aigs,  Ah  reck'n  yo'  kin  live 
longah  dan  dat  ar  Methoosalum,  en  still  haf  trees'  of 
it  in  de  ol'  stockin'." 


THE  TRESPASSER  145 

"Ah!  I  can  grow  all  those  things  myself,  you 
think?" 

"  Yo'  cert'n'y  kin'1  said  Aunt  Daphne.  "  Ev'y- 
body  do.  De  chick'ns  done  peck  fo'  deyselves  en 
de  yuddah  things  —  yo'  o'ny  gotter  'courage  'em 
en  dey  jes'  grows." 

Valiant  ate  his  dessert  with  a  thoughtful  smile 
wrinkling  his  brow.  As  he  pushed  back  his  chair 
he  smote  his  hands  together  and  laughed  aloud. 
"Back  to  the  soil!"  he  said.  "John  Valiant, 
farmer!  The  miracle  of  it  is  that  it  sounds  good 
to  me.  I  want  to  raise  my  own  grub  and  till  my 
own  soil.  I  want  to  be  my  own  man!  And  I'm 
beginning  to  see  my  way.  Crops  will  have  to  wait 
for  another  season,  but  there's  water  and  pasture 
for  cattle  now.  There's  timber  —  lots  of  it  —  on 
that  hillside,  too.  I  must  look  into  that." 

He  filled  his  pipe  and  climbed  the  staircase  to 
the  upper  floor.  Here  the  lower  hall  was  dupli- 
cated. He  proceeded  slowly  and  carefully  with  the 
dusty  task  of  window-opening.  There  were  many 
bedrooms  with  great  four-posted,  canopied  beds  and 
old-fashioned  carved  furniture  of  mahogany  and 
curly-maple,  and  in  one  he  found  a  great  cedar- 
lined  chest  filled  with  bed-linen  and  napery.  In 
these  rooms  were  more  evidences  of  decay.  They 
showed  in  faded  hues,  streaked  and  discolored  fin- 
ishings, yellow  mildew  beneath  the  glass  of  framed 
engravings  and  unsightly  stains  on  walls  and  floors 


146      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

from  leaks  in  the  roof.  On  a  dainty  dressing-table 
had  been  left  a  pin-cushion ;  its  stuffing  was  strewn 
in  a  tiny  trickling  trail  to  a  mouse-hole  in  the 
base-board.  The  bedroom  he  mentally  chose  for 
his  own  was  the  plainest  of  all,  and  was  above  the 
library,  fronting  the  vagabond  garden.  It  had  a 
great  black  desk  with  many  glass-knobbed  drawers 
and  a  book-rack.  The  volumes  this  contained  were 
mostly  of  the  historical  sort :  a  history  of  the  Mid- 
dle Plantation,  Meade's  Old  Churches,  and  at  the 
end  a  parchment-bound  tome  inscribed  The  Valiants 
of  Virginia. 

He  lingered  longest  in  a  room  over  whose  door 
was  painted  The  Hilarium.  It  had  evidently  been 
a  nursery  and  schoolroom.  Here  on  the  walls 
were  many  shelves  wound  over  with  networks  of 
cobwebs,  and  piled  with  the  oddest  assemblage  of 
toys :  wooden  and  splintered  soldiers  that  had  once 
been  bravely  painted,  dolls  in  various  states  of 
worn-outness  —  one  rag  doll  in  a  calico  dress  with 
shoe-button  eyes  and  a  string  of  bright  glass  beads 
round  her  neck  —  a  wooden  box  of  marbles,  a  tat- 
tered boxing-glove.  There  were  school-books,  too, 
thumbed  and  dog-eared,  from  First  Reader  to 
Caesar's  Gallic  Wars,  with  names  of  small  Valiants 
scrawled  on  their  fly-leaves.  He  carefully  relocked 
the  door  of  this  room ;  he  wanted  to  dust  those  toys 
and  books  with  his  own  hands. 

In  the  upper  hall  again  he  leaned  from  the  win- 


THE  TRESPASSER  147 

dow,  sniffing  the  far-flung  scent  of  orchards  and 
peach-blown  fence-rows.  The  soft  whirring  sound 
of  a  bird's  wing  went  past,  almost  brushing  his 
startled  face,  and  the  old  oaks  seemed  to  stretch 
their  bent  limbs  with  a  faithful  brute-like  yawn  of 
pleasure.  In  the  room  below  he  could  hear  the 
vigorous  sound  of  Aunt  Daphne's  hard-driven 
broom  and  the  sound  flooded  the  echoing  space  with 
a  comfortable  commotion. 

The  present  task  was  one  after  Aunt  Daphne's 
own  heart.  A  small  mountain  of  dust  was  growing 
on  the  terrace,  and  as  beneath  brush  and  rag  the 
colors  of  wall  and  parquetry  stood  forth,  her  face 
became  one  shiny  expanse  of  ebony  satisfaction. 
When  the  bulldog,  returning  from  his  jaunt,  out- 
stripping Uncle  Jefferson,  bounced  in  to  prance 
against  her  she  smote  him  lustily  with  her  scrub- 
bing-brush. 

"  Git  outer  heah,  yo'  good-fo'-nuthin'  w'ite 
rapscallyun!  Gwine  trapse  yo'  muddy  feet  all 
ovah  dis  yeah  floor,  whut  Ah  jes'  scrubbed  tell  yo' 
marstah  kin  eat  of 'n  et  ?  "  She  broke  off  to  listen 
to  Uncle  Jefferson's  voice  outside,  directed  toward 
the  upper  window. 

"Dat  yo',  suh?  Yas,  suh,  dis  me.  Well,  suh, 
Ah  take  ol'  Sukey  out  de  Red  Road,  en  Ah  hitch  huh 
ter  yo'  machine-thing,  en  she  done  balk.  Won't 
go  nohow  .  .  .  whut,  suh  ?  '  Beat  huh  ovah  de 
haid  ?  '  Yas,  suh,  done  hit  huh  in  de  haid  six  times 


148      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

wid  de  whip-han'l,  en  she  look  me  in  de  eye  en  airi 
said  er  word.  .  .  .  '  Twis'  huh  tail  ? '  Me,  suh  ? 
No-suh-ree,  suh.  Mars'  Ouarles'  boy  one  time  he 
twis*  huh  tail  en  dey  sen*  him  ter  de  horspit'l. 
'  Daid,'  suh  ?  No,  suh,  ain'  daid,  but  et  mos'  bust 
him  wide  open.  ...  *  Set  fiah  undah  huh  ?  '  Yas, 
suh,  done  set  fiah  undah  huh.  Mos'  burn  up  de 
harness,  en  ain'  done  no  good.  .  .  .  Well,  suh,  Ah 
jes'  gwineter  say  no  use  waitin'  fo'  Sukey  ter 
change  huh  min',  so  Ah  put  some  fence-rails  undah 
huh  en  jock  huh  up  en  come  home.  En  Ah's 
gwine  out  arter  suppah  en  Sukey  be  all  right  den, 
suh,  Ah  reck'n.  Yas,  suh." 

Aunt  Daphne  plunged  out  with  fire  in  her  eye, 
but  the  laugh  that  came  from  above  was  reassuring. 
"  Never  mind,  Uncle  Jefferson,  Miss  Sukey's  whims 
shall  be  regarded." 

Chum,  bouncing  up  the  stairs  like  an  animated 
bundle  of  springs,  met  his  master  coming  down. 
"  Old  man,"  said  the  latter,  "  I  don't  mind  telling 
you  that  I'm  beginning  to  be  taken  with  this  place. 
But  it's  in  a  bad  way,  and  it's  going  to  be  put  in 
shape.  It's  a  large  order,  and  we'll  have  to  work 
like  horses.  Don't  you  bother  Aunt  Daph!  You 
just  come  with  your  Uncle  Dudley.  He's  going  to 
take  a  look  over  the  grounds." 

He  went  to  his  trunk  and  fished  out  a  soft  shirt 
on  which  he  knotted  a  loose  tie,  exchanged  his 
Panama  for  a  slouch  hat,  and  whistling  the  bar- 


THE  TRESPASSER  149 

carole  from  Tales  of  Hoffmann,  went  gaily 
out.  "  I  feel  tremendously  alive  to-day,"  he  con- 
fided to  the  dog,  as  he  tramped  through  the  lush 
grass.  "  If  you  see  me  ladle  the  muck  out  of  that 
fountain  with  my  own  fair  hands,  don't  have  a  fit. 
I'm  liable  to  do  anything." 

His  eye  swept  up  and  down  the  slope.  "  There 
probably  isn't  a  finer  site  for  a  house  in  the  whole 
South,"  he  told  himself.  "  The  living-rooms  front 
south  and  west.  We'll  get  scrumptious  sunsets 
from  that  back  porch.  And  on  the  other  side 
there's  the  view  clear  to  the  Blue  Ridge.  And  as 
for  this  garden,  no  landscape  artist  need  apply. 
The  outlines  are  all  here;  it  needs  only  to  be  put 
back.  We'll  first  rake  out  the  rubbish,  chop  down 
that  underbrush  and  trim  the  box.  The  shrubs 
only  want  pruning.  Then  we'll  mend  the  pool  and 
set  the  fountain  going  and  put  in  some  goldfish. 
Flower-seeds  and  bulbs  are  cheap  enough,  I  fancy. 
Just  think  of  a  bed  of  black  and  gold  pansies  run- 
ning down  to  the  lake!  And  on  the  other  side  a 
wilderness  garden.  I've  seen  pictures  of  them  in 
the  illustrated  weeklies.  Those  rotten  posts,  under 
that  snarl  of  vines,  were  a  pergola.  Any  old  car- 
penter can  rebuild  that  —  I  can  draw  the  plans 
myself." 

He  skirted  the  lake.  "  Only  to  grub  out  some 
of  the  lilies  —  there's  too  many  of  them  —  and 
straighten  the  rim  —  and  weed  the  pebble  margin 


1 50      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

i 

to  give  those  green  rocks  a  show.  I'll  build  a  little 
wharf  below  them  to  dive  from,  and  —  yes,  I'll 
stock  it  with  spotted  trout.  Not  just  to  yank  out 
with  a  barbed  hook,  but  to  make  it  inhabited.  How 
well  a  couple  of  white  swans  would  look  preening 
in  the  shade  out  there!  The  roof's  gone  from  that 
oval  summer-house,  but  it's  no  trick  to  put  another 
on." 

He  penetrated  farther  into  the  tangle  and  came 
out  into  a  partially  cleared  space  shaded  with  great 
trees,  where  the  grass  was  matted  with  clover  into 
a  thick  rug,  sprinkled  with  designs  worked  in  blue- 
bells and  field-daisies,  with  here  and  there  a  flaunt- 
ing poppy,  like  a  scarlet  medallion.  He  was  but 
a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  house,  yet  the  silence 
was  so  deep  that  there  might  have  been  no  habita- 
tion within  fifty  miles.  All  at  once  he  stopped 
short ;  there  was  a  sudden  movement  in  the  thicket 
beyond  —  the  sound  of  light  fast  footfalls,  as  of 
some  one  running  away. 

He  made  a  lunge  for  the  dog,  but  with  a  growl 
Chum  tore  himself  from  the  restraining  grasp  and 
dashed  into  the  bushes.  "  A  child,  no  doubt,"  hvj 
thought  as  he  plunged  in  pursuit,  "  and  that  lub- 
berly brute  will  scare  it  half  to  death !  " 

He  pulled  up  with  an  exclamation.  In  a  narrow 
wood-path  a  little  way  from  him,  partly  hidden  by 
a  windfall,  stood  a  girl,  her  skirt  transfixed  with  a 
wickedly  jagged  sapling.  He  saw  instantly  how  it 


THE  TRESPASSER  151 

had  happened;  the  windfall  had  Mocked  the  way, 
and  she  had  sprung  clean  over  it,  not  noting  the 
screened  spear,  which  now  held  her  as  effectually 
as  any  railroad  spike.  She  was  struggling  with 
silent  helpless  fury  to  release  herself,  wrenching 
viciously  at  the  offending  stuff,  which  seemed  ridicu- 
lously stout,  and  disregarding  utterly  the  bulldog, 
frisking  madly  about  her  feet  with  sharp  joyous 
barks. 

In  another  moment  Valiant  had  reached  her  and 
met  her  face,  flushed,  half  defiant,  her  eyes  a  blue 
gleam  of  smoldering  anger  as  she  desperately,  al- 
most savagely,  thrust  wild  tendrils  of  flame-colored 
hair  beneath  the  broad  curved  brim  of  her  straw 
hat.  At  her  feet  lay  a  great  armful  of  cape  jessa- 
mines. 

A  little  thrill,  light  and  warm  and  joyous,  ran 
through  h:*u  Until  that  instant  he  had  not  recog- 
nized her 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

JOHN  VALIANT  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY 

M  so  sorry,"  was  what  he  said,  as  he  kneeled 
to  release  her,  and  she  was  grateful  that  his 
tone  was  unmixed  with  amusement.  She  bit  her 
lips,  as  by  sheer  strength  of  elbow  and  knee  he 
snapped  the  offending  bole  short  off  —  one  of  those 
quick  exhibitions  of  reserved  strength  that  every 
woman  likes.  Meanwhile  he  was  uttering  banal 
fragments  of  sentences :  "  I  hope  you're  not  hurt. 
It  was  that  unmannerly  dog,  I  suppose.  What  a 
sword-edge  fhat  sliver  has !  A  bad  tear,  I'm  afraid. 
There !  —  now  it's  all  right." 

"  I  don't  know  how  I  could  have  been  so  silly  — ~ 
thank  you  so  much,"  said  Shirley,  panting  slightly 
from  her  exertions.  "  I'm  not  the  least  bit  hurt  — 
only  my  dress  —  and  you  know  very  well  that  I 
wasn't  afraid  of  that  ridiculous  dog."  A  richer 
glow  stole  to  her  cheeks  as  she  spoke,  a  burning 
recollection  of  a  rose,  which  from  her  horse  that 
morning  at  Damory  Court,  she  had  glimpsed  in  its 
glass  on  the  porch. 

Both  laughed  a  little.  He  imagined  that  he  could 
smell  that  wonderful  hair,  a  subtle  fragrance  like 


JOHN  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY        153 

that  of  sun-dried  seaweed  or  the  elusive  scent  that 
clings  to  a  tuft  of  long-plucked  Spanish  moss. 
"  Chum  stands  absolved,  then,"  he  said,  bending 
to  sweep  together  the  scattered  jessamine.  "  Do 
you  —  do  you  run  like  that  when  you're  not  fright- 
ened?" 

"  When  I'm  caught  red-handed.     Don't  you?  " 

He  looked  puzzled. 

She  pointed  to  the  flowers.  "  I  had  stolen  them, 
and  I  was  trying  to  '  'scape  off  wid  Jem '  as  the  ne- 
groes say.  Shocking,  isn't  it?  But  you  see,  no- 
body has  lived  here  since  long  before  I  was  born, 
and  I  suppose  the  flower-thieving  habit  has  become 
ingrown." 

"  But,"  he  interrupted,  "  there's  acres  of  them 
going  to  waste.  Why  on  earth  shouldn't  you  have 
them?" 

"Of  course  I  know  better  to-day,  but  there  was 
a  —  a  special  reason.  We  have  none  and  this  is 
the  nearest  place  where  they  grow.  My  mother 
wanted  some  for  this  particular  day." 

"  Good  heavens !  "  he  cried.  "  You  don't  think 
you  can't  go  right  on  taking  them  ?  Why,  you  can 
'  'scape  off '  with  the  whole  garden  any  time !  " 

A  droll  little  gleam  of  azure  mischief  darted  at 
him  suddenly  out  of  her  eyes  and  then  dodged  back 
again.  "  Aren't  you  just  a  little  rash  with  other 
people's  property?" 

"Other  people's?" 


154      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"  What  will  the  owner  say?  " 

He  bent  back  one  of  the  long  jessamine  stems  and 
wound  it  around  the  others.  "  I  can  answer  for 
him.  Besides,  I  owe  you  something,  you  know. 
I  robbed  you  this  morning  —  of  your  brush. " 

She  looked  at  him,  abruptly  serious.  "  Why  did 
you  do  that  ?  " 

"  Sanctuary.  His  two  beady  eyes  begged  so 
hard  for  it.  *  Twenty  ravenous  hounds/  they  said, 
'  and  a  dozen  galloping  horses.  And  look  what  a 
poor  shivering  little  red-brown  morsel  /  am ! '  " 

For  just  an  instant  the  bronze-gold  head  gave  a 
quick  imperious  toss,  like  a  high-mettled  pony  un- 
der the  flick  of  the  whip*.  But  as  suddenly  the 
shadow  of  resentment  passed ;  the  mobile  face  under 
the  bent  hat-brim  turned  thoughtful.  "  Poor  little 
beastie ! "  she  said  meditatively.  "  We  so  seldom 
think  of  his  side,  do  we!  We  think  only  of  the 
run,  the  dog-music,  the  wild  rush  along  the  wet 
fields,  with  the  horses  straining  and  pounding  under 
us.  F\v  ridden  to  hounds  all  my  life.  Everybody 
does  clown  here."  She  looked  again  at  him.  "  Do 
you  think  it's  wrong  to  kill  things  ?  "  she  asked 
gravely. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no,"  he  smiled.  "  I  haven't  a  single 
ism.  I'm  not  even  a  vegetarian." 

"  But  you  would  be  if  you  had  to  kill  your  own 
meat?" 

"  Perhaps.     So  many  of  us  would.     As  a  matter 


JOHN  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY        155 

of    fact,    I    don't   hunt   myself,    but    I'm    no    re- 
former." 

"  Why  don't  you  hunt?  " 

"I  don't  enjoy  it."  He  flushed  slightly.  "I 
hate  firearms,"  he  said,  a  trifle  difficultly.  "  I  al- 
ways have.  I  don't  know  why.  Idiosyncrasy,  I 
suppose.  But  I  shouldn't  care  for  hunting,  even 
with  bows  and  arrows.  I  would  kill  a  tiger  or  a 
poisonous  reptile,  or  anything  else,  in  case  of  neces- 
sity. But  even  then  I  should  hardly  enjoy  it.  I 
know  some  animals  are  pests  and  have  to  be  killed. 
Some  men  do,  too.  But  I  don't  like  to  do  it  my- 
self." 

"Wouldn't  that  theory  lead  to  a  wholesale 
evasion  of  responsibility?" 

"  Perhaps.  I'm  no  philosopher.  But  a  black- 
bird or  a  red  fox  is  so  pretty,  even  when  he  is  thiev- 
ing, that  I'd  let  him  have  the  corn.  I'm  like  the 
Lord  High  Executioner  in  The  Mikado  who  was 
so  tender-hearted  that  he  couldn't  execute  anybody 
and  planned  to  begin  with  guinea-pigs  and  work  up. 
Only  I'm  afraid  I  couldn't  even  manage  the  guinea- 
pigs." 

She  laughed.  "  You  wouldn't  find  many  to  prac- 
tise on  here.  Do  you  raise  guinea-pigs  up  North?  " 

"Ah,"  he  said  ruefully,  "you  tag  me,  too. 
Have  I  by  chance  a  large  letter  N  tattooed  upon  my 
manly  brow  ?  But  I  suppose  it's  the  accent.  Uncle 
Jefferson  catalogued  me  in  five  minutes.  He  said 


156      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

he  didn't  know  why  I  was  from  '  de  Norf,'  but  he 
'  knowed3  it.  I've  annexed  him  and  his  wife,  by 
the  way." 

"  You're  lucky  to  have  them.  Unc'  Jefferson 
and  Aunt  Daph  might  have  slipped  out  of  a  planta- 
tion of  the  last  century.  They're  absolutely  ante- 
bellum. Most  of  the  negroes  are  more  or  less 
spoiled,  as  you'll  find,  I'm  afraid."  She  turned  the 
conversation  bluntly.  "  Had  you  seen  Damory 
Court  before?" 

"  No,  never." 

"  Do  you  like  the  general  plan  of  the  place?  " 

"  Do  I  like  it?  "  cried  John  Valiant.  "  Do  I  like 
it!" 

A  quick  pleasure  glanced  across  her  face.  "  It's 
nice  of  you  to  say  it  that  way.  We  ask  that  ques- 
tion so  often  it's  become  mechanical.  You  see,  it's 
our  great  show-place.  We  exhibit  it  to  strangers  as 
we  show  them  the  Natural  Bridge  and  Monticello, 
and  expect  them  to  rhapsodize.  Years  ago  the  ne- 
groes would  never  set  foot  here.  The  house  was 
supposed  to  be  haunted." 

"I'm  not  afraid,"  he  laughed.  "I  wouldn't 
blame  any  ghost  for  hanging  around.  I'm  thinking 
of  haunting  it  myself  in  a  hundred  years  or  so." 

"  Oh,  the  specters  are  all  laid  long  ago,  if  then 
ever  were  any." 

At  that  moment  a  patter  of  footsteps  and  shrill 
shrieks  came  flying  over  the  last-year's  leaves  be- 


JOHN  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY        157 

yond  the  lilac  bushes.  "  It's  Rickey  Snyder,"  she 
said,  peering  out  smilingly  as  two  children,  pursued 
and  pursuer,  burst  into  view.  "  Hush !  "  she  whis- 
pered ;  "  I  wonder  what  they  are  up  to." 

The  pair  came  in  a  whirl  through  the  bushes. 
The  foremost  was  a  seven-year-old  negro  girl,  in  a 
single  short  cottonade  garment,  wizened,  barelegged 
and  bareheaded,  her  black  wool  parted  in  little 
angular  patches  and  tightly  wrapped  with  bits  of 
cord.  The  other  was  white  and  as  freckled  as  a 
turkey's  egg,  with  hair  cropped  like  a  boy's.  She 
held  a  carving-knife  cut  from  a  shingle,  whose  edge 
had  been  deeply  ensanguined  by  poke-berry  juice. 
The  pursued  one  stumbled  over  a  root  and  came 
to  earth  in  a  heap,  while  the  other  pounced  upon  her 
like  a  wildcat. 

"Hold  still,  you  limb  of  Satan,"  she  scolded. 
"  How  can  I  do  it  when  you  won't  stay  still  ?  " 

"  Oh,  lawd,"  moaned  the  prostrate  one,  in  simu- 
lated terror ;  "  oh,  Doctah,  good  Doctah  Snydah, 
has  Ah  goiter  hab  dat  operation?  Is  yo'  sho' 
gwineter  twitter  eroun*  mah  insides  wid  dem  knives 
en  saws  en  things  ?  " 

"  It  won't  hurt,"  reassured  the  would-be  operator ; 
"  no  more  than  it  did  Mis'  Poly  Gifford.  And  I'll 
put  your  liver  right  back  again." 

"  Wait  er  minute.  Ah  jes'  remembahs  Ah  f o'got 
ter  make  mah  will.  Ah  leabs  — " 

"  Nonsense ! "     objected     the     other     irritably. 


"158      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"  You  made  it  yesterday.  They  always  do  it  be- 
forehand." 

"  No,  suh ;  Ah  done  clean  f ergot  et  Ah  leabs 
mah  thimble  ter  de  Mefodis'  church,  en  mah  black 
en  w'ite  kitten  ter  Rickey  Snydah,  en  — " 

"  I  don't  want  your  old  tabby !  "  said  the  bene- 
ficiary unfeelingly.  "  Now  flatten  out,  while  I  give 
you  the  chloroform." 

"All  right,  Doctah.  Ah's  in  de  free-ward  en 
'tain't  costin'  me  er  cent !  But  Ah's  mighty  skeered 
Ah  gwineter  wake  up  daid !  Gord  A'mighty,  ef  Ah 
dies,  save  mah  sinful  soul !  Oh,  Mars'  Judge  Jesus, 
swing  dat  cha'yut  down  en  kyah  me  up  ter  Hebben ! 
Rickey,  yo'  reck'n,  arter  all,  Ah's  gwineter  be  er 
black  angel?  Hesh-sh!  Ah's  driftin'  away,  Doc- 
tah, Ah's  driftin'  away  on  de  big  wide  rubber." 

"  Now  you're  asleep,"  declared  the  surgeon,  and 
fell  to  with  a  flourish  of  the  gory  blade. 

The  other  reared  herself.  "Huh!  How  yo' 
reck'n  Ah's  gwineter  be  ersleep  wid  yo'  chunkin' 
me  in  de  shoht-ribs  wid  dat  ar  stick?  Ain'  yo* 
done  cyarvin'  me  up  yet  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nurse,"  wailed  Rickey,  turning  the  drama 
into  a  new  channel,  "  I  can't  wake  Greenie  up !  She 
won't  come  out  of  the  chloroform!  She's  dying. 
Let's  all  sing  and  maybe  it'll  make  it  easier : 

"  *  I  went  down  to  Jordan  and  what  did  I  see, 
Coming  for  to  carry  me  home? 


JOHN  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY        159 

A  band  of  angels  waiting  for  me,1 
Coming  for  to  carry  me  home  1 '  * 

The  melody,  however,  was  too  much  for  the  pros- 
pective corpse.  She  sat  up,  shook  the  dead  leaves 
from  her  hair  and  joined  in,  swaying  her  lean  body 
to  and  fro  and  clapping  her  yellow-lined  hands  to- 
gether in  an  ecstasy: 

"  *  Sweeng  low !     Sweet  Char-ee-yut ! 

Comin*  fo'  t'kyah  me  ho-o-o-ome. 
Swee-eng  low,  swee-et  Char-ee-yut! 
Comin'  fo'  t'kyah  me  home ! ' " 

The  two  were  a  strange  contrast  as  they  sang, 
the  negro  child  swaying  with  the  emotionalism  of 
her  race  and  her  voice  dropping  instinctively  to  a 
soft  alto  accompaniment  to  the  other's  rigid  soprano, 
and  lending  itself  to  subtle  half-tones  and  minor 
cadences. 

A  twig  snapped  under  Valiant's  foot.  The  sing- 
ers faced  about  and  saw  them.  Both  scrambled  to 
their  feet,  the  black  girl  to  look  at  them  with  a  wide 
self-conscious  grin.  Rickey,  tossing  her  short  hair 
back  from  her  freckled  face,  came  toward  them. 

"  My  goodness,  Miss  Shirley,"  she  said,  "  we 
didn't  see  you  at  all."  She  looked  at  Valiant. 
"  Are  you  the  man  that's  going  to  fix  up  Damory 
Court  ?  "  she  inquired,  without  any  tedious  formali- 
ties. 


160      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"  Yes,"  said  Valiant. 

"  Well,"  she  said  critically,  "  you've  got  your 
job  cut  out  for  you.  But  I  should  say  you're  the 
kind  to  do  it." 

"  Rickey !  "  Shirley's  voice  tried  to  be  stern,  but 
there  was  a  hint  of  laughter  in  it. 

"  What  did  I  say  now?  "  inquired  Rickey.  "  I'm 
sure  I  meant  it  to  be  complimentary." 

"  It  was,"  said  Valiant.  "  I  shall  try  to  deserve 
your  good  opinion." 

"  But  what  a  ghastly  play ! "  exclaimed  Shirley. 
"  Where  did  you  learn  it  ?  " 

"  We  were  playing  Mis'  Poly  Gifford  in  the 
hospital,"  Rickey  answered.  "  She's  got  a  whole 
lot  of  little  pebbles  that  they  cut  out  — " 

"Oh,  Rickey!"  expostulated  Shirley  with  a 
shudder. 

"  They  did.  She  keeps  them  in  a  little  pasteboard 
box  like  wedding-cake,  with  a  blue  ribbon  around 
it.  She  was  showing  it  to  Miss  Mattie  Sue  yester- 
day. She  was  telling  her  all  about  it.  She  said  all 
the  women  there  showed  each  other  their  cuts  and 
bragged  about  how  long  they  were." 

Valiant's  merriment  rang  out  under  the  trees,  but 
Shirley  was  crimson.  "  Well,  I  don't  think  it's  a 
nice  play,"  she  said  decidedly. 

"  That's  just  the  way,"  murmured  Rickey  discon- 
solately, "yesterday  it  was  Romeo  and  Juliet  with 


JOHN  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY        161 

the  Meredith  children,  and  their  mother  had  a  con- 
niption fit." 

"  Was  that  gruesome,  too  ?  " 

"  Not  so  very.  I  only  poisoned  Rosebud  and 
June  and  stabbed  myself.  I  don't  call  that  grue- 


some." 


"  You  certainly  have  a  highly  developed  taste  for 
the  dramatic,"  said  Shirley.  "  I  wonder  what  your 
next  effort  will  be." 

"  It's  to-morrow,"  Rickey  informed  her.  "  We're 
going  to  have  the  duel  between  Valiant  and  Sas- 


soon." 


The  smile  was  stricken  from  John  Valiant's  face. 
A  duel  —  the  duel  —  between  Valiant  and  Sassoon ! 
He  felt  his  blood  beat  quickly.  Had  there  been 
such  a  thing  in  his  father's  life?  Was  that  what 
had  blighted  it? 

"  Only  not  here  where  it  really  happened,  but  in 
the  Meredith  orchard.  Greenie's  going  to  be  — " 

"  Ah  ain' !  "  contradicted  Greenie.  "  Ah  ain' 
gwineter  be  dat  Valiant,  nohow !  " 

"  You  are,  too ! "  insisted  Rickey  wrathfully. 
'  You  needn't  be  so  pickety  and  choosety  —  and 
after  she  kills  Sassoon,  we  put  the  bloodhounds  on 
her  trail." 

Greenie  tittered.  "  Dey  ain'  no  dawg  eroun' 
heah'd  tech  me"  she  said,  "  en  'sides  — " 

"  But,  Rickey,"  Shirley  interposed,  "  that  wasn't 


162      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

a  murder.  That  was  a  duel  between  gentlemen. 
They  don't—" 

"  I  know  it,"  assented  Rickey  cheerfully.  "  But  it 
makes  it  more  exciting.  Will  you  come,  Miss  Shir- 
ley, deed  and  double?  I  won't  charge  you  any  ad- 
mission." 

"  I  can't  promise,"  said  Shirley.  "  I  might  stand 
the  duel,  but  I'm  afraid  the  hounds  would  be  too 
blood-curdling.  By  the  way,"  she  added,  "  isn't  it 
about  time  Miss  Mattie  Sue  had  her  tea  ?  " 

"  It  certainly  is,  Miss  Shirley !  "  said  Rickey,  with 
penitent  emphasis.  "  I  clean  forgot  it,  and  she'll 
row  me  up  the  gump-stump!  Come  on,  Greenie," 
and  she  started  off  through  the  bushes. 

But  the  other  hung  back.  "  Ah  done  tole  yo'  Ah 
am'  gwine  be  dat  Valiant,"  she  said  stubbornly. 

"  Look  here,  Greenville  Female  Seminary 
Srmms,"  Rickey  retorted,  "  don't  you  multiply 
words  with  me  just  because  your  mammy  was  work- 
ing there  when  you  were  born  and  gave  you  a  fancy 
name!  If  you'll  promise  to  be  him,  I'll  get  Miss 
Mattie  Sue  to  let  us  make  molasses  candy." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

UNDER  THE   HEMLOCKS 

OlHIRLEY  looked  at  Valiant  with  a  deepening  of 
O  her  dimple.  "  Rickey  isn't  an  aristocrat/'  she 
said:  "she's  what  we  call  here  poor-white,  but 
she's  got  a  heart  of  gold.  She's  an  orphan,  and  the 
neighborh  od  in  general,  and  Miss  Mattie  Sue 
Mabry  in  particular,  have  adopted  her." 

He  hardly  neard  her  words  lor  the  painful  won- 
der ihat  was  holding  him.  He  had  canvassed  many 
theories  to  explain  hi:  father's  letter  but  such  a 
thing  as  a  duel  «i*  had  never  remotely  imagined. 
His  father  *J[(!  taken  a  man's  life.  Was  it  this 
thought — -whatever  the  provocation,  however  jus- 
tified by  the  cu-toms  of  the  time  and  section  —  that 
had  driven  him  to  self -exile?  He  recalled  himself 
with  an  effort,  for  she  was  speaking  again. 

"  You've  found  Lovers'  Leap,  no  doubt  ?  " 

"  No.  This  is  the  :irst  time  I've  been  so  far  from 
the  house.  Is  it  near  here  ?  " 

"  I'll  show  it  to  you/'  She  held  out  her  hand 
for  the  bunch  of  jessamine  and  laid  it  on  the  broad 
roots  of  a  tree  that  were  mottled  with  lichen. 


164      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"  Look  there,"  she  said  suddenly ;  "  isn't  that  a 
beauty?" 

She  was  pointing  to  a  jimson-weed  on  which  had 
settled,  with  glassy  wings  vibrating,  a  long,  un- 
gainly, needlelike  insect  with  an  odd  sword-like 
beak.  "  What  is  that?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  snake-doctor.  If  Unc'  Jefferson  were  here 
he'd  say,  '  Bettah  watch  out !  Dah's  er  snek  roun' 
erbout  heah,  sho'!'  He'll  fill  you  full  of  darky 
superstitions." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I'm  being  intro- 
duced to  them  hourly.  I've  met  the  graveyard 
rabbit  —  one  of  them  had  hoodooed  my  motor  yes- 
terday. I'm  to  carry  a  buckeye  in  my  pocket  —  by 
the  way,  is  a  buckeye  a  horse-chestnut?  —  if  I  want 
to  escape  rheumatism.  I've  learned  that  it's  bad 
luck  to  make  a  bargain  on  a  Friday,  and  the  weepy 
consequences  of  singing  before  breakfast."  A  blue- 
jay  darted  by  them,  to  perch  on  a  limb  and  eye  them 
saucily.  "  And  the  jay-bird !  He  goes  to  hell 
every  Friday  noon  to  carry  brimstone  and  tell  the 
devil  what  folks  have  been  up  to." 

She  clapped  her  hands.  "  You're  certainly  learn- 
ing fast.  When  I  was  little  I  used  to  be  delighted 
to  see  a  blue- jay  in  the  cedars  on  Friday  afternoon. 
It  was  a  sign  we'd  been  so  good  there  was  nothing 
to  tell.  Follow  me  now  and  I'll  show  you  the  view 
from  Lovers'  Leap.  But  look  down.  Don't  lift 
your  eyes  till  I  tell  you." 


UNDER  THE  HEMLOCKS  165 

He  dropped  his  gaze  to  the  small  brown  boots  and 
followed,  his  eyes  catching  low  side-glimpses  of 
woodsy  things  —  the  spangled  dance  of  leaf-shad- 
ows, a  chameleon  lizard  whisking  through  the  roots 
of  the  bracken,  the  creamy  wavering  wings  of  a 
white  moth  resting  on  a  dead  stump.  Suddenly  the 
slim  path  between  the  trees  took  a  quick  turn,  and 
fell  away  at  their  feet.  "  There,"  she  said.  "  This 
is  the  finest  view  at  Damory  Court." 

They  stood  on  the  edge  of  a  stony  ravine  vhich 
widened  at  one  end  to  a  shallow  marshy  valley. 
The  rocks  were  covered  with  gray-green  feathery 
creepers,  enwound  with  curly  yellow  tendrils  of 
love-vine.  Across  the  ravine,  on  a  lower  level,  be- 
gan a  grove  of  splendid  trees  that  marched  up  into 
the  long  stretch  of  neglected  forest  he  had  seen  from 
the  house.  Looking  down  the  valley,  fields  of 
young  tobacco  lay  tier  on  tier,  and  beyond,  in  the 
very  middle  of  the  mellow  vaporous  distance,  lifted 
the  tapering  tower  of  a  far-off  church,  hazily  out- 
lined against  the  azure. 

'  You  love  it  ?  "  he  asked,  without  withdrawing 
his  eyes. 

"  I've  loved  it  all  my  life.  I  love  everything 
about  Damory  Court.  Ruined  as  it  is,  it  is  still  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  estates  in  all  Virginia. 
There's  nothing  finer  even  in  Italy.  Just  behind 
us,  where  those  hemlocks  stand,  is  where  the  duel 
the  children  spoke  of  was  fought." 


i66      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

He  turned  his  head.     "  Tell  me  about  it,"  he  said. 

She  glanced  at  him  curiously.  "  Didn't  you 
know?  That  was  the  reason  the  place  was  aban- 
doned. Valiant,  who  lived  here,  and  the  owner  of 
another  plantation,  who  was  named  Sassoon,  quar- 
reled. They  fought,  the  story  is,  under  those  big 
hemlock  trees.  Sassoon  was  killed." 

He  looked  out  across  the  distance;  he  could  not 
trust  his  face.  "  And  —  Valiant  ?  " 

"  He  went  away  the  same  day  and  never  came 
back;  he  lived  in  New  York  till  he  died.  He  was 
the  father  of  the  Court's  present  owner.  You 
never  heard  the  story  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  admitted.  "I  —  till  quite  recently  I 
never  heard  of  Damory  Court." 

"  As  a  little  girl,"  she  went  on,  "  I  had  a  very 
vivid  imagination,  and  when  I  came  here  to  play 
I  used  to  imagine  I  could  see  them,  Valiant  so  hand- 
some —  his  nickname  was  Beauty  Valiant  —  and 
Sassoon.  How  awful  to  come  to  such  a  lovely 
spot,  just  because  of  a  young  man's  quarrel,  and  to 
—  to  kill  one's  friend !  I  used  to  wonder  if  the  sky 
was  blue  that  day  and  whether  poor  Sassoon  looked 
up  at  it  when  he  took  his  place;  and  whom  else  he 
thought  of  that  last  moment." 

"Had  he  parents?" 

"  No,  neither  of  them  had,  I  believe.  But  there 
might  have  been  some  one  else, —  some  one  he  cared 
for  and  who  cared  for  him.  That  was  the  last  duel 


UNDER  THE  HEMLOCKS  167 

ever  fought  in  Virginia.  Dueling. was  a  dreadful 
custom.  I'm  glad  it's  gone.  Aren't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said  slowly,  "  it  was  a  thing  that  cut 
two  ways.  Perhaps  Valiant,  if  he  could  have  had 
his  choice  afterward,  would  rather  have  been  lying 
there  that  morning  than  Sassoon." 

"  He  must  have  suffered,  too,"  she  agreed,  "  or  he 
wouldn't  have  exiled  himself  as  he  did.  I  used  to 
wonder  if  it  was  a  love-quarrel  —  whether  they 
could  have  been  in  love  with  the  same  woman." 

"  But  why  should  he  go  away  ?  " 

"  I  can't  imagine,  unless  she  had  really  loved  the 
other  man.  If  so,  she  couldn't  have  borne  seeing 
Valiant  afterward."  She  paused  with  a  little  laugh. 
"  But  then,"  she  said,  "  it  may  have  been  nothing  so 
romantic.  Perhaps  they  quarreled  over  cards  or  dif- 
fered as  to  whose  horse  was  the  better  jumper. 
Valiant's  grandfather,  who  was  known  as  Devil- 
John,  is  said  to  have  called  a  man  out  because  he 
rode  past  him  on  the  wrong  side.  Our  ancestors 
in  Virginia,  I'm  afraid,  didn't  stand  on  ceremony 
when  they  felt  uppish." 

He  did  not  smile.  He  was  looking  out  once 
more  over  the  luminous  stretch  of  fields,  his  side- 
face  toward  her.  Curious  and  painful  questions 
were  running  through  his  brain.  With  an  effort, 
he  thrust  these  back  and  recalled  his  attention  to 
what  she  was  saying. 

"  You  wonder,   I  suppose,  that  we   feel  as  we 


1 68      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

do  toward  these  old  estates,  and  set  store  by  them, 
and  —  yes,  and  brag  of  them  insufferably  as  we  do. 
But  it's  in  our  blood.  We  love  them  as  the  English 
do  their  ancient  manors.  They  have  made  our 
legends  and  our  history.  And  the  history  of  Vir- 
ginia — " 

She  broke  off  with  a  shrug  and,  more  himself 
now,  he  finished  for  her:  "  —  isn't  exactly  a 
trifling  part  of  the  history  of  these  United  States. 
You  are  right." 

"  You  Northerners  think  we  are  desperately  con- 
ceited," she  smiled,  "  but  it's  true.  We're  still  as 
proud  of  our  land,  and  its  old,  old  places,  and  love 
them  as  well  as  our  ancestors  ever  did.  We 
wouldn't  change  a  line  of  their  stately  old  pillars 
or  a  pebble  of  their  darling  homey  gardens.  Do 
you  wonder  we  resent  their  passing  to  people  who 
don't  care  for  them  in  the  Southern  way  ?  " 

"  But  suppose  the  newcomers  do  care  for  them?  " 

Her  lips  curled.  "  A  young  millionaire  who  has 
lived  all  his  life  in  New  York,  to  care  for  Damory 
Court!  A  youth  idiotically  rich,  brought  up  in  a 
superheated  atmosphere  of  noise  and  money ! " 

He  started  uncontrollably.  So  that  was  what  she 
thought!  He  felt  himself  flushing.  He  had  won- 
dered what  would  be  his  impression  of  the  neigh- 
borhood and  its  people;  their  possible  opinion  of 
himself  had  never  occurred  to  him. 

"  Why,"  she  went  on,  "  he's  never  cared  enough 


UNDER  THE  HEMLOCKS  169 

about  the  place  even  to  come  and  "see  it.  For  rea- 
sons of  his  own  —  good  enough  ones,  perhaps,  ac- 
cording to  the  papers, —  he  finds  himself  tired  of 
the  city.  I  can  imagine  him  reflecting."  With  a 
mocking  simulation  of  a  brown-study,  she  put  her 
hand  to  her  brow,  pushing  impatiently  back  the 
wayward  luster :  "  '  Let  me  see.  Don't  I  own  an 
estate  somewhere  in  the  South?  Ah-ha!  yes.  If  I 
remember,  it's  in  Virginia.  I'll  send  down  and  fix 
up  the  old  hovel/  Then  he  telephones  for  his  archi- 
tect to  run  down  and  see  what  '  improvements  '  it 
needs.  And  —  here  you  are !  " 

He  laughed  shortly  —  a  tribute  to  her  mimicry  — • 
but  it  was  a  difficult  laugh.  The  desperately  en- 
nuyee  pose,  the  lax  drawl,  the  unaccustomed  mental 
effort  and  the  sudden  self-congratulatory  "  ah-ha!  " 
—  hitting  off  to  a  hair  the  lackadaisical  boredom  of 
the  haplessly  rich  young  boulevardier  —  this  was 
the  countryside's  pen-picture  of  him! 

"  Don't  you  consider  a  longing  for  nature  a 
wholesome  sign  ?  " 

"  Perhaps.  The  vagaries  of  the  rich  are  always 
suggestive." 

'  You  think  there's  no  chance  of  his  choosing 
to  stay  here  because  he  actually  likes  it  ?  " 

"  Not  the  slightest,"  she  said  indifferently. 

"  You  are  so  certain  of  this  without  ever  having 
seen  him  ?  " 

She  glanced  at  him  covertly,  annoyedly  sensible 


;i;o      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

of  the  impropriety  of  the  discussion,  since  the  man 
discussed  was  certainly  his  patron,  maybe  his  friend. 
But  his  insistence  had  roused  a  certain  balky  wil- 
fulness  that  would  have  its  way.  "  It's  true  I've 
never  seen  him,"  she  said,  "  but  I've  read  about  him 
a  hundred  times  in  the  Sunday  supplements.  He's 
a  regular  feature  of  the  high-roller  section.  His 
idea  of  a  good  time  is  a  dog-banquet  at  Sherry's. 
Why,  a  girl  told  me  once  that  there  was  a  cigarette 
named  after  him  —  the  Vanity  Valiant !  " 

An  angry  glint  slanted  across  his  eyes.  For 
some  reason  the  silly  story  on  her  lips  stung  him 
deeply.  "  You  find  the  Sunday  newspapers  always 
so  dependable?  " 

"Well,"  she  flashed,  "you  must  know  Mr.  Val- 
iant. Is  he  a  useful  citizen?  What  has  he  ever 
done  except  play  polo  and  furnish  spicy  paragraphs 
for  the  society  columns  ?  " 

"  Isn't  that  beside  the  point  ?  Because  he  has 
been  an  idler,  must  he  necessarily  be  a  —  van- 
dal?" 

She  laughed  again.  "  He  wouldn't  call  it  vandal- 
ism. He'd  think  it  decided  improvement  to  make 
Damory  Court  as  frantically  different  as  possible. 
I  suppose  he'll  erect  a  glass  cupola  and  a  porte- 
cochere,  all  up-to-date  and  varnishy,  and  put  orchid 
hot-houses  where  the  wilderness  garden  was,  and  a 
modern  marble  cupid  instead  of  the  summer-house, 
and  lay  out  a  kite-shaped  track  — " 


UNDER  THE  HEMLOCKS  171 

Everything  that  was  impulsive  and  explosive  in 
John  Valiant's  nature  came  out  with  a  bang. 
"  No !  "  he  cried,  "  whatever  else  he  is,  he's  not 
such  a  preposterous  ass  as  that !  " 

She  faced  him  squarely  now.  Her  eyes  were 
sparkling.  "  Since  you  know  him  so  intimately  and 
so  highly  approve  of  him — " 

"  No,  no/'  he  interrupted.  "  You  mistake  me. 
I  shouldn't  try  to  justify  him."  His  flush  had 
risen  to  the  roots  of  his  brown  hair,  but  he  did  not 
lower  his  gaze.  Now  the  red  color  slowly  ebbed, 
leaving  him  pale.  "  He  has  been  an  idler  —  that's 
true  enough  —  and  till  a  week  ago  he  was  '  idiotic- 
ally rich.'  But  his  idling  is  over  now.  At  this  mo- 
ment, except  for  this  one  property,  he  is  little  better 
than  a  beggar." 

She  had  taken  a  hasty  step  or  two  back  from  him, 
and  her  eyes  were  now  fixed  on  his  with  a  dawning 
half- fearful  question  in  them. 

"  Till  the  failure  of  the  Valiant  Corporation,  he 
had  never  heard  of  Damory  Court,  much  less  been 
aware  that  he  owned  it.  It  wasn't  because  he  loved 
it  that  he  came  here  —  no !  How  could  it  be  ?  He 
had  never  set  foot  in  Virginia  in  his  mortal  life." 

She  put  up  her  hands  to  her  throat  with  a  start. 
"  Came  ?  "  she  echoed.  "  Came ! " 

"  But  if  you  think  that  even  he  could  be  so  crassly 
stupid,  so  monumentally  blind  to  all  that  is  really 
fine  and  beautiful  — " 


172      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"  Oh ! "  she  cried  with  flashing  comprehensioa 
"  Oh,  how  could  you !  You  — " 

He  nodded  curtly.  "  Yes/'  he  said.  "  I  am  that 
haphazard  harlequin,  John  Valiant,  himself." 


CHAPTER  XX 

ON  THE  EDGE  OF  THE  WORLD 

THERE  was  a  pause  not  to  be  reckoned  by  min- 
utes but  suffocatingly  long.     She  had  grown 
as  pale  as  he. 

"  That  was  ungenerous  of  you,"  she  said  then 
with  icy  slowness.  "  Though  no  doubt  you  — 
found  it  entertaining.  It  must  have  still  further 
amused  you  to  be  taken  for  an  architect  ?  " 

"  I  am  flattered,"  he  replied,  with  a  trace  of  bit- 
terness, "  to  have  suggested,  even  for  a  moment,  so 
worthy  a  calling." 

Though  he  spoke  calmly  enough,  his  thoughts 
were  in  ragged  confusion.  As  her  gaze  dived  into 
his,  he  was  conscious  of  outre  fancies.  She  seemed 
to  him  like  some  snow-cloud  in  woman's  shape, 
edged  with  anger  and  swept  by  a  wrathful  wind 
into  this  summery  afternoon.  For  her  part  she  was 
telling  herself  with  passionate  resentment  that  he 
had  no  right  so  to  misrepresent  himself  —  to  lead 
her  on  to  such  a  denouement.  At  his  answer  she 
put  out  her  hand  with  a  sudden  gesture,  as  if  bluntly 
thrusting  the  matter  from  her  concern,  and  turning, 
went  back  along  the  tree-shadowed  v  path. 

173 


174      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

He  followed  glumly,  gnawing  his  lip,  wanting  to 
say  he  knew  not  what,  but  wretchedly  tongue-tied, 
noting  that  the  great  white  moth  was  still  waving 
its  creamy  wings  on  the  dead  stump  and  wondering 
if  she  would  take  the  cape  jessamines.  He  felt  an 
embarrassed  relief  when,  passing  the  roots  where 
they  lay,  she  stooped  to  raise  them. 

Then  all  at  once  the  blood  seemed  to  shrink  from 
his  heart.  With  a  hoarse  cry  he  leaped  toward  her, 
seized  her  wrist  and  roughly  dragged  her  back,  feel- 
ing as  he  did  so,  a  sharp  fiery  sting  on  his  instep. 
The  next  moment,  with  clenched  teeth,  he  was  vi- 
ciously stamping  his  heel  again  and  again,  driving 
into  the  soft  earth  a  twisting  root-like  something 
that  slapped  the  brown  wintered  leaves  into  a  hiss- 
ing turmoil. 

He  had  flung  her  from  him  with  such  violence 
that  she  had  fallen  sidewise.  Now  she  raised  her- 
self, kneeling  in  the  feathery  light,  both  hands 
clasped  close  to  her  breast,  trembling  excessively 
with  loathing  and  feeling  the  dun  earth-floor  bil- 
low like  a  canvas  sea  in  a  theater.  Little  puffs  of 
dust  from  the  protesting  ground  were  wreathing 
about  her  set  face,  and  she  pressed  one  hand  against 
her  shoulder  to  repress  her  shivers. 

"  The  horrible  —  horrible  —  thing !  "  she  said 
whisperingly.  "  It  would  have  bitten  me !  " 

He  came  toward  her,  panting,  and  grasping  her 
hand,  lifted  her  to  her  feet.  He  staggered  slightly 


ON  THE  EDGE  OF  THE  WORLD     175 

as  he  did  so,  and  she  saw  his  lips  'twist  together 
oddly.  "Ah,"  she  gasped,  "it  bit  you!  It  bit 
you!" 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  think  not." 

"  Look !     There  on  your  ankle  —  that  spot !  " 

"  I  did  feel  something,  just  that  first  moment." 
He  laughed  uncertainly.  "  It's  queer.  My  foot's 
gone  fast  asleep." 

Every  remnant  of  color  left  her  face.  She  had 
known  a  negro  child  who  had  died  of  a  water- 
moccasin's  bite  some  years  before  —  the  child  of  a 
house-servant.  It  had  been  wading  in  the  creek  in 
the  gorge.  The  doctor  had  said  then  that  if  one 
of  the  other  children.  .  .  . 

She  grasped  his  arm.  "  Sit  down,"  she  com- 
manded, "  here,  on  this  log,  and  see." 

Her  pale  fright  caught  him.  He  obeyed, 
dragged  off  the  low  shoe  and  bared  the  tingling 
spot.  The  firm  white  flesh  was  puffing  up  around 
two  tiny  blue-rimmed  punctures.  He  reached  into 
his  pocket,  then  remembered  that  he  had  no  knife. 
As  a  next  best  thing  he  knotted  his  handkerchief 
quickly  above  the  ankle,  thrust  a  stick  through  the 
loop  and  twisted  it  till  the  ligature  cut  deeply,  while 
she  knelt  beside  him,  her  lips  moving  soundlessly, 
saying  over  and  over  to  herself  words  like  these: 
"  I  must  not  be  frightened.  He  doesn't  realize  the 
danger,  but  I  do!  I  must  be  quite  collected.  It  is 
a  mile  to  the  doctor's.  I  might  run  to  the  house 


176      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

and  send  Unc'  Jefferson,  but  it  would  take  too  long. 
Besides,  the  doctor  might  not  be  there.  There  is  no 
one  to  do  anything  but  me." 

She  crouched  beside  him,  putting  her  hands  by 
his  on  the  stick  and  wrenching  it  over  with  all  her 
strength.  "  Tighter,  tighter,"  she  said.  "  It  must 
be  tighter."  But,  to  her  dismay,  at  the  last  turn 
the  improvised  cord  snapped,  and  the  released  stick 
flew  a  dozen  feet  away. 

Her  heart  leaped  chokingly,  then  dropped  into 
hammer-like  thudding.  He  leaned  back  on  one 
arm,  trying  to  laugh,  but  she  noted  that  his  breath 
came  shortly  as  if  he  had  been  running.  "  Ab- 
surd !  "  he  said,  frowning.  "  How  such  —  a  fool 
thing  —  can  hurt !  " 

Suddenly  she  threw  herself  on  the  ground  and 
grasped  his  foot  with  both  her  hands.  He  could 
see  her  face  twitch  with  shuddering,  and  her  eyes 
dilating  with  some  determined  purpose. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  This,"  she  said,  and  he  felt  her  shrinking  lips, 
warm  and  tremulous,  pressed  hard  against  his  in- 
step. 

He  drew  away  sharply,  with  savage  denial. 
*  No  —  no !  Not  that !  You  shan't !  My  lord  — 
you  shan't !  "  He  dragged  his  numbing  foot  from 
her  desperate  grasp,  lifting  himself,  pushing  her 
from  him;  but  she  fought  with  him,  clinging,  pant- 
ing broken  sentences : 


ON  THE  EDGE  OF  THE  WORLD     177 

"  You  must !  It's  the  only  way.  It  was  —  a 
moccasin,  and  it's  deadly.  Every  minute  counts !  " 

"  I  won't.  No,  stop !  How  do  you  know  ?  It's 
not  going  to  —  here,  listen!  Take  your  hands 
away.  Listen!  —  Listen!  I  can  go  to  the  house 
and  send  Uncle  Jefferson  for  the  doctor  and  he  — 
No!  stop,  I  say!  Oh  —  I'm  sorry  if  I  hurt  you. 
How  strong  you  are !  " 

"Let  me!" 

"  No !  Your  lips  are  not  for  that  —  good  God, 
that  damnable  thing!  You  yourself  might  be  — " 

"  Let  me !  Oh,  how  cruel  you  are !  It  was  my 
fault.  But  for  me  it  would  never  have  — " 

"No!     I  would  rather—" 

"  Let  me!    Oh,  if  you  died! " 

With  all  the  force  of  her  strong  young  body  she 
wrenched  away  his  protestant  hands.  A  thirst  and 
a  sickish  feeling  were  upon  him,  a  curious  irre- 
sponsible giddiness,  and  her  hair  which  that  strug- 
gle had  brought  in  tumbled  masses  about  her 
shoulders,  seemed  to  have  little  flames  running  all 
over  it.  His  foot  had  entirely  lost  its  feeling. 
There  was  a  strange  weakness  in  his  limbs. 

He  felt  it  with  a  cool  thriving  surprise.  Could 
it  be  death  stealing  over  him  —  really  death,  in  this 
silly  inglorious  guise,  from  a  miserable  crawling 
reptile?  Death,  when  he  had  just  begun  a  life  that 
seemed  so  worth  living? 

A  sense  of  unreality  came.     He  was  asleep !    The 


178      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

failure,  the  investigation,  Virginia  —  all  was  a 
dream.  Presently  he  would  wake  in  his  bachelor 
quarters  to  find  his  man  setting  out  his  coffee  and 
grapefruit.  He  settled  back  and  closed  his  eyes. 

Moments  of  half -consciousness,  or  consciousness 
jumbled  with  strange  imaginings,  followed.  At 
times  he  felt  the  pressure  upon  the  wounded 
foot,  was  sensible  of  the  suction  of  the  young  mouth 
striving  desperately  to  draw  the  poison  from  the 
wound.  From  time  to  time  he  was  conscious  of  a 
white  desperate  face  haloed  with  hair  that  was  a 
mist  of  woven  sparkles.  At  times  he  thought  him- 
self a  recumbent  stone  statue  in  a  wood,  and  her  a 
great  tall  golden-headed  flower  lying  broken  at  his 
feet.  Again  he  was  a  granite  boulder  and  she  a 
vine  with  yellow  leaves  winding  and  clinging  about 
him.  Then  a  blank  —  a  sense  of  movement  and  of 
troublous  disturbance,  of  insistent  voices  that  called 
to  him  and  inquisitive  hands  that  plucked  at  him, 
and  then  voices  growing  distant  again,  and  hands 
falling  away,  and  at  last  —  silence. 


• 


CHAPTER  XXI 

AFTER    THE    STORM 

INKY  clouds  were  gathering  over  the  sunlight 
when  Shirley  came  from  Damory  Court,  along 
the  narrow  wood-path  under  the  hemlocks,  and  the 
way  was  striped  with  blue-black  shadows  and  filled 
with  sighing  noises.  She  walked  warily,  halting 
often  at  some  leafy  rustle  to  catch  a  quick  breath 
of  dread.  As  she  approached  the  tree-roots  where 
the  cape  jessamines  lay,  she  had  to  force  her  feet 
forward  by  sheer  effort  of  will.  At  a  little  dis- 
tance from  them  she  broke  a  stick  and  with  it  man- 
aged to  drag  the  bunch  to  her,  turning  her  eyes  with 
a  shiver  from  the  trampled  spot  near  by.  She 
picked  up  the  flowers,  and  treading  with  caution, 
retraced  her  steps  to  the  wider  path. 

She  stepped  into  the  Red  Road  at  length  in  the 
teeth  of  a  thunder-storm,  which  had  arisen  almost 
without  warning  to  break  with  the  passionate  in- 
tensity of  electric  storms  in  the  South.  The  green- 
golden  fields  were  now  a  gray  seethe  of  rain  and 
the  farther  peaks  lifted  like  huge  tumbled  masses  of 
onyx  against  a  sky  stippled  with  wan  yellow  and 
vicious  violet.  The  wind  leaped  and  roared  and 

179 


i8o      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

swished  through  the  weeping  foliage,  lashing  the 
dull  Pompeian-red  puddles,  swirling  leaves  and 
twigs  from  the  hedges  and  seeming  to  be  intent  on 
dragging  her  very  garments  from  her  as  she  ran. 

There  was  no  shelter,  but  even  had  there  been,  she 
would  not  have  sought  it.  The  turbulence  of  na- 
ture around  her  matched,  in  a  way,  her  overstrained 
feeling,  and  she  welcomed  the  fierce  bulge  of  the 
wind  in  the  up-blowing  whorls  of  her  hair  and  the 
drenching  wetness  of  the  rain.  At  length,  out  of 
breath,  she  crouched  down  under  a  catalpa  tree, 
watching  the  fangs  of  lightning  knot  themselves 
against  the  baleful  gray-yellow  dimness,  making 
sudden  flares  of  unbearable  brightness  against  which 
twigs  etched  themselves  with  the  unrelieved  sharp- 
ness of  black  paper  silhouettes. 

She  tried  to  fix  her  mind  on  near  things,  the 
bending  grasses,  the  scurrying  red  runnels  and  flap- 
ping shrubbery,  but  her  thoughts  wilfully  escaped 
the  tether,  turning  again  and  again  to  the  events  of 
the  last  two  hours.  She  pictured  Unc'  Jefferson's 
eyes  rolling  up  in  ridiculous  alarm,  his  winnowing 
arm  lashing  his  indignant  mule  in  his  flight  for  the 
doctor. 

At  the  mental  picture  she  choked  with  hysterical 
laughter,  then  cringed  suddenly  against  the  sopping 
bark.  She  saw  again  the  doctor's  gaze  lift  from 
his  first  examination  of  the  tiny  punctures  to  send 
a  swift  penetrant  glance  straight  at  her,  before  he 


AFTER  THE  STORM  181 

bent  his  great  body  to  carry  the  unconscious  man 
to  the  house.  Again  a  fit  of  shuddering  swept  over 
her.  Then,  all  at  once,  tears  came,  strangling  sobs 
that  bent  and  swayed  her.  It  was  the  discharge  of 
the  Leyden  jar,  the  loosing  of  the  tense  bow-string, 
and  it  brought  relief. 

After  a  time  she  grew  quieter.  He  would  per- 
haps still  be  lying  on  tht,  couch  in  the  dull-colored 
library,  under  the  one-eyed  portrait,  his  hair  wav- 
ing crisply  against  the  white  blanket,  his  hands  mov- 
ing restlessly,  his  lips  muttering.  Her  imagina- 
tion followed  Aunt  Daph  shuffling  to  fetch  this  and 
that,  nagged  by  the  doctor's  sharp  admonitions. 

He  would  get  well!  The  thought  that  perhaps 
she  had  saved  his  life  gave  her  a  thrill  that  ran  over 
her  whole  body.  And  until  yesterday  she  had  never 
seen  him!  She  kneeled  in  the  blurred  half-light, 
pushing  her  wet  hair  back  from  her  forehead  and 
smiling  up  in  the  rain  that  still  fell  fast. 

In  a  few  moments  she  rose  and  went  on.  The 
lightning  came  now  at  longer  and  more  irregular 
intervals  and  the  thunder  pealed  less  heavily.  The 
wan  yellow  murk  was  lifting.  Here  and  there  a 
soaked  sun-beam  peered  half- frightened  through  the 
racked  mist-wreaths,  as  though  to  smell  the  over- 
sweet  fragrance  of  the  wet  jessamine  in  her  arms. 

At  the  gate  of  the  Rosewood  lane  stood  a  mail- 
box on  a  cedar  post  and  she  paused  to  fish  out  a 
draggled  Richmond  newspaper.  As  she  thrust  it 


i82      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

under  her  arm  her  eye  caught  a  word  of  a  head-line. 
With  a  flush  she  tore  it  from  its  soggy  wrapper,  the 
wetted  fiber  parting  in  her  eager  fingers,  and  rest- 
ing her  foot  on  the  lower  rail  of  the  gate,  spread  it 
open  on  her  knee. 

She  stood  stock-still  until  she  had  read  the  whole. 
It  was  the  story  of  John  Valiant's  sacrifice  of  his 
private  fortune  to  save  the  ruin  of  the  involved  Cor- 
poration. 

Its  effect  upon  her  was  a  shock.  She  felt  her 
throat  swell  as  she  read;  then  she  was  chilled  by 
the  memory  of  what  she  had  said  to  him :  "  What 
has  he  ever  done  except  play  polo  and  furnish  spicy 
paragraphs  for  the  society  columns?  " 

"  What  a  beast  I  was ! "  she  said,  addressing  the 
wet  hedge.  "  He  had  just  done  that  splendid 
thing.  It  was  because  of  that  that  he  was  little 
better  than  a  beggar,  and  I  said  those  horribk 
things !  "  Again  she  bent  her  eyes,  rereading  the 
sentences :  "  Took  his  detractors  by  surprise  .  .  . 
had  just  sustained  a  grilling  at  the  hands  of  the 
State's  examiner  which  might  well  have  dried  at 
their  fount  the  springs  of  sympathy" 

She  crushed  up  the  paper  in  her  hand  and  rested 
her  forehead  on  the  wet  rail.  Idiotically  rich  —  a 
vandal  —  a  useless  purse-proud  flaneur.  She  had 
called  him  all  that!  She  could  still  see  the  pale- 
ness of  his  look  as  she  had  said  it. 

Shirley,   overexcited   as   she   still   was,    felt   the 


AFTER  THE  STORM  183 

sobs  returning.  These,  however,  did  not  last  long 
and  in  a  moment  she  found  herself  smiling  again. 
Though  she  had  hurt  him,  she  had  saved  him,  too! 
When  she  whispered  this  over  to  herself  it  still 
thrilled  and  startled  her.  She  folded  the  paper  and 
hastened  on  under  the  cherry-trees. 

Emmaline,  the  negro  maid  was  waiting  anxiously 
on  the  porch.  She  was  thin  to  spareness,  with  a 
face  as  brown  as  a  tobacco  leaf,  restless  black  eyes 
and  wool  neatly  pinned  and  set  off  by  an  amber 
comb. 

"  Honey,"  called  Emmaline,  "  Fse  been  fearin'  fo' 
yo'  wid  all  that  lightnin'  r'arin'  eroun'.  Do  yo'  re- 
membah  when  yo'  useter  run  up  en  jump  plumb 
down  in  th'  middle  of  yore  feddah-baid  en  covah  up 
dat  little  gol'  haid,  en  I  useter  tell  yo'  th'  noise  was 
th'  Good  Man  rollin'  eroun'  his  rain-barr'l  ?  "  She 
laughed  noiselessly,  holding  both  hands  to  her  thin 
sides.  "  Yo'  grow'd  up  now  so  yo'  am'  skeered  o' 
nothin'  this  side  th'  Bad  Place !  Yo'  got  th'  jess'- 
mine  ?  Give  'em  to  Em'line.  She'll  fix  'em  all  nice, 
>es'  how  Mis'  Judith  like." 

"  All  right,  Emmaline,"  replied  Shirley.  "  And 
I'll  go  and  dress.  Has  mother  missed  me  ?  " 

"  No'm.  She  ain'  lef  huh  room  this  whole 
blessed  day.  Now  yo'  barth's  all  ready  —  all  'cep'n 
th'  hot  watah,  en  I  sen'  Ranston  with  that  th'  fus' 
thing.  Yo'  hurry  en  peel  them  wet  close  off 
yo'se'f,  or  yo'  have  one  o'  them  digested  chills." 


184      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

Her  young  mistress  flown  and  the  hot  watef 
despatched,  the  negro  woman  spread  a  cloth  on  the 
floor  and  began  to  cut  and  dress  the  long  stalks  of 
the  flowers.  This  done  she  fetched  bowls  and 
vases,  and  set  the  pearly-white  clumps  here  and 
there  —  on  the  dining-room  sideboard,  the  hall 
mantel  and  the  desk  of  the  living-room  —  till  the 
delicate  fragrance  filled  the  house,  quite  vanquish- 
ing the  rose-scent  from  the  arbors. 

When  all  was  done,  she  stood  in  the  doorway  with 
arms  akimbo,  turning  about  to  survey  her  handi- 
work. "  Mis'  Judith  be  pleas'  with  that,"  she  said, 
nodding  her  woolly  head  with  vigor.  "  Wondah 
why  she  want  them  sprangly  things !  All  th'  res'  o' 
th'  time  roses,  but  'bout  onct  a  yeah  seems  like  she 
j«s'  got  to  have  them  jess'mine  en  nothin'  else." 

She  swept  up  the  scattered  twigs  and  leaves,  and 
going  into  the  dining-room,  began  to  lay  the  table 
for  dinner.  This  room  was  square  and  low,  with  a 
carved  console  and  straight-backed  chairs  thinly 
cushioned  in  faded  blue  to  match  the  china.  The 
olive-gray  walls  were  brightened  with  the  soft  dull 
gold  of  an  old  mirror  and  picture  frames  from  which 
dim  faces  looked  placidly  down.  The  crumbling 
splendor  of  the  storm-racked  sunset  fell  through 
old-fashioned  leaded  window-panes,  tinging  the 
white  Capodimonte  figures  on  the  mantelpiece. 

As  the  trim  colored  woman  moved  lightly  about 
in  the  growing  dusk,  with  the  low  click  of  glass  and 


AFTER  THE  STORM  185 

muffled  clash  of  silver,  the  light  tat-tat  of  a  cane 
sounded,  and  she  ran  to  the  hall,  where  Mrs.  Dand- 
ridge  was  descending  the  stairway,  one  slim  white 
hand  holding  the  banister,  under  the  edge  of  a 
white  silk  shawl  which  drooped  its  heavy  fringes  to 
her  daintily-shod  feet.  On  the  lower  step  she 
halted,  looking  smilingly  about  at  the  blossoming 
bowls. 

"  Don'  they  smell  up  th'  whole  house  ?  "  said. 
Emmaline.  "  I  know'd  yo'  be  pleas',  Mis'  Judith. 
Now  put  yo'  han'  on  mah  shouldah  en  I'll  take  yo' 
to  yo'  big  cha'h." 

They  crossed  the  hall,  the  dusky  form  bending  to 
the  fragile  pressure  of  the  fingers.  "  Now  heah's 
yo'  cha'h.  Ranston  he  made  up  a  little  fiah  jes' 
to  take  th'  damp  out,  en  th'  big  lamp's  lit,  en  Miss 
Shirley'll  be  down  right  quick." 

A  moment  later,  in  fact,  Shirley  descended  the 
stair,  in  a  filmy  gown  of  India-muslin,  with  a  nar- 
row belting  of  gold,  against  whose  flowing  sleeves 
her  bare  arms  showed  witii  a  flushed  pinkness  the 
hue  of  the  pale  coral  beads  about  her  neck.  The 
damp  newspaper  was  in  her  hand. 

At  her  step  her  mother  turned  her  head :  she  was 
listening  intently  to  voices  that  came  from  the  gar- 
den—  a  child's  shrill  treble  opposing  Ranston's 
stentorian  grumble. 

"  Listen,  Shirley.  What's  that  Rickey  is  telling 
Ranston  ?  " 


186      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"  Don'  yo'  come  heah  wid  yo'  no-count  play- 
actin'.  Cyan'  fool  Ranston  wid  no  sich  snek-story, 
neidah.  Ain'  no  moc'sin  at  Dam'ry  Co'ot,  en  neb- 
bah  was! " 

"  There  was,  too !  "  insisted  Rickey.  "  One  bit 
him  and  Miss  Shirley  found  him  and  sent  Uncle 
Jefferson  for  Doctor  Southall  and  it  saved  his  life! 
So  there!  Doctor  Southall  told  Mrs.  Mason. 
And  he  isn't  a  man  who's  just  come  to  fix  it  up, 
either ;  he's  the  really  truly  man  that  owns  it ! " 

"  Who  on  earth  is  that  child  talking  about?  " 

Shirley  put  her  arm  around  her  mother  and 
kissed  her.  Her  heart  was  beating  quickly.  "  The 
owner  has  come  to  Damory  Court.  He  — " 

The  small  book  Mrs.  Dandridge  held  fell  to  the 
floor.  "  The  owner !  What  owner  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Valiant  —  Mr.  John  Valiant.  The  son  of 
the  man  who  abandoned  it  so  long  ago."  As  she 
picked  up  the  fallen  volume  and  put  it  into  her 
mother's  hands,  Shirley  was  startled  by  the  white- 
ness of  her  face. 

"Dearest!"  she  cried.  "You  are  ill.  You 
shouldn't  have  come  down." 

"  No.  It's  nothing.  I've  been  shut  up  all  day. 
Go  and  open  the  other  window." 

Shirley  threw  it  wide.  "  Can  I  get  your  salts  ?  " 
she  asked  anxiously. 

Her  mother  shook  her  head.  "  No,"  she  said  al- 
most sharply.  "  There's  nothing  whatever  the  mat- 


AFTER  THE  STORM  187 

ter  with  me.  Only  my  nerves  aren't  what  they  used 
to  be,  I  suppose  —  and  snakes  always  did  get  on 
them.  Now,  give  me  the  gist  of  it  first.  I  can  wait 
for  the  rest.  There's  a  tenant  at  Damory  Court. 
And  his  name's  John  —  Valiant.  And  he  was  bit- 
ten by  a  moccasin.  When  ?  " 

"  This  afternoon." 

Mrs.  Dandridge's  voice  shook.  "  Will  he  —  will 
he  recover  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes." 

"  Beyond  any  question  ?  " 

"  The  doctor  says  so." 

"  And  you  found  him,  Shirley  —  you?" 

"  I  was  there  when  it  happened."  She  had 
crouched  down  on  the  rug  in  her  favorite  posture, 
her  coppery  hair  against  her  mother's  knee,  catch- 
ing strange  reddish  over-tones  like  molten  metal, 
from  the  shaded  lamp.  Mrs.  Dandridge  fingered 
her  cane  nervously.  Then  she  dropped  her  hand  on 
the  girl's  head. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  "  tell  me  all  about  it." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE   ANNIVERSARY 

THE  story  was  not  a  long  one,  though  it 
omitted  nothing:  the  morning  fox-hunt  and 
the  identification  of  the  new  arrival  at  Damory 
Court  as  the  owner  of  yesterday's  stalled  motor; 
the  afternoon  raid  on  the  jessamine,  the  conversa- 
tion with  John  Valiant  in  the  woods. 

Mrs.  Dandridge,  gazing  into  the  fire,  listened 
without  comment,  but  more  than  once  Shirley  saw 
her  hands  clasp  themselves  together  and  thought, 
too,  that  she  seemed  strangely  pale.  The  swift 
and  tragic  sequel  to  that  meeting  was  the 
hardest  to  tell,  and  as  she  ended  she  put  up  her 
hand  to  her  shoulder,  holding  it  hard.  "  It  was 
horrible !  "  she  said.  Yet  now  she  did  not  shudder. 
Strangely  enough,  the  sense  of  loathing  which  had 
been  surging  over  her  at  recurrent  intervals  ever 
since  that  hour  in  the  wood,  had  vanished  utterly! 

She  read  the  newspaper  article  aloud  and  her 
mother  listened  with  an  expression  that  puzzled 
her.  When  she  finished,  both  were  silent  for  a  mo- 
ment, then  she  asked,  "  You  must  have  known  his 
father,  dearest ;  didn't  you  ?  " 
'  1 88 


THE  ANNIVERSARY  189 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Dandridge  after  a  pause.  "  I 
—  knew  his  father." 

Shirley  said  no  more,  and  facing  each  other  in 
the  candle-glow,  across  the  spotless  damask,  they 
talked,  as  with  common  consent,  of  other  things. 
She  thought  she  had  never  seen  her  mother  more 
brilliant.  An  odd  excitement  was  flooding  her 
cheek  with  red  and  she  chatted  and  laughed  as  she 
had  not  done  for  years.  Even  Ranston  rolled  his 
eyes  in  appreciation,  later  confiding  to  Emmaline  in 
the  kitchen  that  "  Mis'  Judith  cert'n'y  chipper  ez 
er  squ'rl  dis  ev'nin'.  Reck'n  she  be  breckin'  dc*t 
cane  ovah  some  o'  ouah  haids  yit !  What  yo'  spos'n 
she  say  'bout  dem  aryplanes?  She  'clah  she  tickle 
tuh  deff  ter  ride  in  one  —  yas'm.  Say  et  soun' 
lak  er  thrash'n-machine  en  look  lak  er  debble-fish 
but  she  don'  keen  When  she  ride,  she  want  tuh 
zip  —  yas  she  did!  Dat's  jes'  whut  Mis'  Judith 
say." 

But  after  dinner  the  gaiety  and  effervescence 
faded  quickly  and  Mrs.  Dandridge  went  early  to 
her  room.  She  mounted  the  stair  with  her  arm 
thrown  about  Shirley's  pliant  waist.  At  the  win- 
dow, where  the  balustrade  turned,  she  paused  to  peer 
into  the  night.  The  air  outside  was  moist  and 
heavy  with  rose-scent. 

"  How  alive  they  seem,  Shirley,"  she  said,  " —  the 
roses.  But  the  jessamine  deserves  its  little  hour." 
At  her  door  she  kissed  her,  looking  at  her  with  a 


THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

strange  smile.  "  How  curious,"  she  said,  as  if  to 
herself,  "  that  it  should  have  happened,  to-day!  " 

The  reading-lamp  had  been  lighted  on  her  table. 
She  drew  a  slim  gold  chain  from  the  bosom  of  her 
dress  and  held  to  the  light  a  little  locket-brooch  it 
carried.  It  was  of  black  enamel,  with  a  tiny  laurel- 
wreath  of  pearls  on  one  side  encircling  a  single 
diamond.  The  other  side  was  of  crystal  and  cov- 
ered a  baby's  russet-colored  curl.  In  her  fingers  it 
opened  and  disclosed  a  miniature  at  which  she 
looked  closely  for  a  moment. 

As  she  snapped  the  halves  shut,  her  eye  fell  on 
the  open  page  of  a  book  that  lay  on  the  table  in  the 
circle  of  radiance.  It  was  Lucile: 

"Alas!  who  shall  number  the  drops  of  the  rain? 
Or  give  to  the  dead  leaves  their  greenness  again? 
Who  shall  seal  up  the  caverns  the  earthquake  hath  rent? 
Who  shall  bring  forth  the  winds  that  within  them  are  pent? 
To  a  voice  who  shall  render  an  image?  or  who 
From  the  heats  of  the  noontide  shall  gather  the  dew  ?  " 

Her  eyes  turned  restlessly  about  the  room.  It 
had  been  hers  as  a  girl,  for  Rosewood  had  been  the 
old  Garland  homestead.  It  seemed  now  all  at  once 
to  be  full  of  calling  memories  of  her  youth.  She 
looked  again  at  the  page  and  turned  the  leaf : 

"  Hush  !     That  which  is  done 

I  regret  not.    I  breathe  no  reproaches.    That's  best 
Which  God  sends.     Twas  His  will ;  it  is  mine.    And  the  rest 
Of  that  riddle  I  will  not  look  back  to! " 


THE  ANNIVERSARY  191 

She  closed  the  book  hastily  and  thrust  it  out  of 
sight,  beneath  a  magazine. 

"  How  strange  that  it  should  have  been  to-day !  " 
It  had  been  on  Shirley's  lips  to  question,  but  the 
door  had  closed,  and  she  went  slowly  down-stairs. 
She  sat  a  while  thinking,  but  at  length  grew  restless 
and  began  to  walk  to  and  fro  across  the  floor,  her 
hands  clasped  behind  her  head  so  that  the  cool  air 
filled  her  flowing  sleeves.  In  the  hall  she  could 
hear  the  leisurely  kon-kon  —  kon-kon  of  the  tall 
clock.  The  evening  outside  was  exquisitely  still 
and  the  metallic  monotone  was  threaded  with  the 
airy  fiddle-fiddle  of  crickets  in  the  grass  and  punc- 
tuated with  the  rain-glad  cloap  of  a  frog. 

Presently,  with  the  mellow  whirrings  that  ac- 
company the  movements  of  such  antiques,  the  an- 
cient timepiece  struck  ten.  At  the  sound  she 
threw  a  thin  scarf  over  her  shoulders  and  stole  out 
to  the  porch.  Its  deep  odorous  shadow  was  crossed 
by  oblongs  of  lemon-colored  light  from  the  win- 
dows. Before  the  kitchen  door  Ranston's  voice  was 
humming  huskily: 


1  Steal  away ;     Steal  away ! 

Steal  away  to  Jesus. 
Steal  away  !     Steal  away  home  — : 


accompanied  by  the  soft  alto  of  Aunt  Judy  the  cook. 
Shirley  stepped  lightly  down  to  the  wet  grass. 


i92      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

Looking  back,  she  could  see  her  mother's  lighted 
blind.  All  around  the  ground  was  splotched  with 
rose-petals,  looking  in  the  squares  of  light  like 
bloody  rain.  Beyond  the  margin  of  this  brightness 
all  was  in  darkness,  for  the  moon  was  not  yet  risen, 
and  a  light  damp  breeze  passed  in  a  slow  rhythm  as 
if  the  earth  were  breathing  moistly  in  its  sleep. 
Somewhere  far  away  sounded  the  faint  inquiring 
woo-o-o  of  an  owl  and  in  the  wet  branches  of  a 
walnut  tree  a  pigeon  moved  murmurously. 

She  skimmed  the  lawn  and  ran  a  little  way  down 
the  lane.  A  shuffling  sound  presently  fell  on  her 
ear. 

"  Is  that  you,  Unc'  Jefferson?  "  she  called  softly. 

"  Yas'm !  "  The  footsteps  came  nearer.  "  Et's 
me,  Miss  Shirley."  He  tittered  noiselessly,  and  she 
could  see  his  bent  form  vibrating  in  the  gloom. 
"  Yo'  reck'n  Ah  done  fergit?  " 

"  No,  indeed.  I  knew  you  wouldn't  do  that. 
How  is  he?" 

"  He  right  much  bettah,"  he  replied  in  the  same 
guarded  tone.  "  Doctah  he  say  he  be  all  right  in  er 
few  days,  on'y  he  gotter  lay  up  er  while.  Dat  was 
er  ugly  nip  he  got  f'om  dat  'spisable  reptyle.  Ah 
reck'n  de  moc'sins  is  wuss'n  dem  ar  Floridy  yallar- 
gaters." 

"  Do  you  think  there  can  be  any  others  about  the 
grounds  ?  " 

"  No'm.     Dey   mos'ly   keeps   ter   de   ma'sh-lan' 


THE  ANNIVERSARY  193 

en  on'y  runs  whah  de  undah-bresh  ez  thick.  I 
gwineter  fix  dat  ter-morrow.  Mars'  Valiant  he  tell 
me  ter  grub  et  all  out  en  make  er  bon-fiah  ob  it." 

'  That's  right,  Unc'  Jefferson.  Good  night,  and 
thank  you  for  coming." 

She  started  back  to  the  house,  when  his  voice 
stopped  her. 

"Mis  Shirley,  yo'  don'  keer  ef  de  ole  man  ged- 
dahs  two  er  three  ob  dem  roses?  Seems  lak  young 
mars'  moughty  fon'  ob  dem.  He  got  one  in  er 
glass  but  et's  mos'  daid  now." 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  she  said,  and  disappeared  in 
the  darkness,  returning  quickly  with  a  handful 
which  she  put  in  his  grasp. 

"  There ! "  she  whispered,  and  slipped  back 
through  the  perfumed  dark. 

An  hour  later  she  stood  in  the  cozy  stillness  of 
her  bedroom.  It  was  hung  in  silvery  blue  with  cur- 
tains of  softly  figured  shadow-cloth  having  a  misty 
design  of  mauve  and  pink  hydrangeas.  A  tilted 
mirror  on  the  draped  dressing-table  had  a  dark  ma- 
hogany frame  set  in  upright  posts  carved  in  a  heavy 
pattern  of  grape-leaves.  Two  candles  in  silver 
candlesticks  stood  before  it,  their  friendly  light 
winking  from  the  fittings  of  the  dark  bed,  from  the 
polished  surface  of  the  desk  in  the  corner  and  from 
the  old  piece  of  brocade  stretched  above  the  mantel, 
worked  like  shredded  silver  cobwebs. 


194      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

She  threw  off  her  gown,  slipped  into  a  soft  loose 
robe  of  maize-colored  silk  and  stood  before  the  small 
glass.  She  pulled  out  the  amber  pins  and  drew  her 
wonderful  hair  on  either  side  of  her  face,  looking 
out  at  her  reflection  like  a  mermaid  from  between 
the  rippling  waves  of  a  moon-golden  sea.  She 
gazed  a  long  critical  minute  from  eyes  whose  blue 
seemed  now  almost  black. 

At  last  she  turned,  and  seating  herself  at  the 
desk,  took  from  it  a  diary.  She  scanned  the  pages 
at  random,  her  eyes  catching  lines  here  and  there. 
*  A  good  run  to-day.  Betty  and  Judge  Chalmers 
and  the  Pendleton  boys.  My  fourth  brush  this  sea- 
son." A  frown  drew  itself  across  her  brows,  and 
she  turned  the  page.  "  One  of  the  hounds  broke 
his  leg,  and  I  gave  him  to  Rickey/'  ...  "  Chilly 
Lusk  to  dinner  to-day,  after  swimming  the  Loring 
Rapid." 

She  bit  her  lip,  turned  abruptly  to  the  new  page 
and  took  up  her  pen.  "  This  morning  a  twelve  mile 
run  to  Damory  Court/'  she  wrote.  "  This  after- 
noon went  for  cape  jessamines/'  There  she  paused. 
The  happenings  and  sensations  of  that  day  would 
not  be  recorded.  They  were  unwritable. 

She  laid  down  her  pen  and  put  her  forehead  on 
her  clasped  hands.  How  empty  and  inane  these  en- 
tries seemed  beside  this  rich  and  eventful  twenty- 
four  hours  just  passed !  What  had  she  been  doing 
a  year  ago  to-day?  she  wondered.  The  lower 


THE  ANNIVERSARY  195 

drawer  of  the  desk  held  a  number  of  slim  diaries 
like  the  one  before  her.  She  pulled  it  out,  took  up 
the  last-year's  volume  and  opened  it. 

"  Why,"  she  said  in  surprise,  "  I  got  jessamine 
for  mother  this  very  same  day  last  year !  "  she  pon- 
dered frowning,  then  reached  for  a  third  and  a 
fourth.  From  these  she  looked  up,  startled.  That 
date  in  her  mother's  calendar  called  for  cape  jessa- 
mines. What  was  the  fourteenth  of  May  to  her? 

She  bent  a  slow  troubled  gaze  about  her.  The 
room  had  been  hers  as  a  child.  She  seemed  sud- 
denly back  in  that  childhood,  with  her  mother  bend- 
ing over  her  pillow  and  fondling  her  rebellious  hair. 
When  the  wind  cried  for  loneliness  out  in  the  dark 
she  had  sung  old  songs  to  her  that  had  seemed  to 
suit  a  windy  night :  Mary  of  the  Wild  Moor,  and 
I  am  Dreaming  Now  of  Hallie.  Sad  songs !  Even 
in  those  pinafore  years  Shirley  had  vaguely  realized 
that  pain  lay  behind  the  brave  gay  mask.  Was 
there  something  —  some  event  —  that  had  caused 
that  dull-colored  life  and  unfulfilment?  And  was 
to-day,  perhaps,  its  anniversary? 

Her  thought  darted  to  her  father  who  had  died 
before  her  birth,  on  whose  gray  hair  had  been  set 
the  greenest  laurels  of  the  Civil  War.  She  had  al- 
ways been  deeply  proud  of  his  military  record  — 
had  never  read  his  name  on  a  page  of  Confederate 
history  without  a  new  thrill.  But  she  had  never 
thought  of  him  and  her  mother  as  actors  in  a  pas- 


196      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

sionate  love-romance.  Their  portraits  hung  to- 
gether in  the  living-room  down-stairs:  the  grave 
middle-aged  man  with  graying  hair,  and  the  pale 
proud  girl  with  the  strange  shadow  in  the  dark  eyes. 
The  canvases  had  been  painted  in  the  year  of  her 
mother's  marriage.  The  same  sadness  had  been  in 
her  face  then.  And  their  marriage  and  his  death 
had  both  fallen  in  midwinter.  No,  this  May  date 
was  not  connected  with  him! 

"  Dearest,  dearest !  "  whispered  Shirley,  and  a 
slow  tear  drew  its  shining  track  down  her  cheek. 
"  Is  there  something  I've  never  known  ?  Is  there  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
UNCLE  JEFFERSON'S  STORY 

JOHN  VALIANT  sat  propped  up  on  the  library 
couch,  an  open  magazine  unheeded  on  his  knee. 
The  reading-stand  beside  him  was  a  litter  of  letters 
and  papers.  The  bow-window  was  open  and  the 
honeysuckle  breeze  blew  about  him,  lifting  his  hair 
and  ruffling  the  leaves  of  the  papers.  In  one  cor- 
ner, in  a  splotch  of  bright  sunshine,  lay  the  bull- 
dog, watching  a  strayed  blue-bottle  darting  in  panic 
hither  and  thither  near  the  ceiling. 

Outside  a  colored  maid  —  a  new  acquisition  of 
Aunt  Daphne's  —  named  Cassandra,  black  ( in  Doc- 
tor Southall's  phrase)  "  as  the  inside  of  a  cow," 
and  dressed  in  a  trim  cotton-print  "  swing-clear," 
was  sweeping  the  big  porch.  Over  the  little  cabin 
by  the  kitchens,  morning-glories  twirled  their  young 
tendrils.  Before  its  step  stood  a  low  shuck-bottom 
"  rocker  "  with  a  crimson  dyed  sheep-skin  for  up- 
holstery, on  which  was  curled  a  brindle  cat. 
Through  its  door  Valiant  could  see  a  spool  what- 
not, with  green  pasteboard  partitions,  a  chromo 
framed  in  pine-covers  on  the  wall  and  on  a  shelf  a 
creton-covered  can  full  of  bustling  paper  lighters. 

197 


198      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

In  the  garden  three  darkies  were  laboring,  under 
the  supervision  of  Uncle  Jefferson.  The  unsightly 
weeds  and  lichen  were  gone  from  the  graveled  paths, 
and  from  the  fountain  pool,  whose  shaft  now 
spouted  a  slender  spray  shivered  by  the  breeze  into  a 
million  diamonds,  which  fell  back  into  the  pool  with 
a  tintinabulant  trickle  and  drip.  The  drunken  wild 
grape-vines  now  trailed  with  a  pruned  and  sobered 
luxuriance  and  the  clamor  of  hammer  and  saw 
came  from  the  direction  of  the  lake,  where  a  car- 
penter refurbished  the  ruined  summer-house. 

The  master  of  Damory  Court  closed  the  maga- 
zine with  a  sigh.  "If -I  could  only  do  it  all  at 
once!  "  he  muttered.  "  It  takes  such  a  confounded 
time.  Four  days  they've  been  working  now,  and 
they  haven't  done  much  more  than  clean  up."  He 
laughed,  and  threw  the  magazine  at  the  dog  who 
dodged  it  with  injured  alacrity.  "  After  all, 
Chum,"  he  remarked,  "  it's  been  thirty  years  get- 
ting in  this  condition.  I  guess  we're  doing  pretty 
well." 

He  picked  up  a  plump  package  and  weighed  it  in 
his  hand.  "  There  are  the  seeds  for  the  wilderness 
garden.  Bachelor's-buttons  and  love-lies-bleeding 
and  Jacob's-ladder  and  touch-me-nots  and  daffy- 
down-dillies  and  phlor  and  sweet-williams  and 
love-in-a-mist  and  four-o'clocks —  not  a  blessed 
hot-house  name  among  'em,  Chum!  f)on't  they 
sound  homey  and  old-fashioned?  The  asters  and 


UNCLE  JEFFERSON'S  STORY        199 

dahlias  and  scarlet  geraniums  are  for  nearer  the 
house,  and  the  pansies  and  petunias  for  that  sunny 
stretch  down  by  the  lake.  Then  there'll  be  sun- 
flowers around  the  kitchens  and  a  trumpet-vine  over 
the  side  of  this  porch." 

He  stretched  luxuriously.  "  I'll  take  a  hand  at  it 
myself  to-morrow.  I'm  as  right  as  rain  again 
now,  thanks  to  Aunt  Daph  and  the  doctor.  Some- 
thing of  a  crusty  citizen,  the  doctor,  but  he's  all  to 
the  good." 

A  heavy  step  came  along  the  porch  and  Uncle 
Jefferson  appeared  with  a  tray  holding  a  covered 
dish  with  a  plate  of  biscuit  and  a  round  jam-pot. 
"  Look  here/'  said  John  Valiant,  "  I  had  my  lunch- 
eon three  hours  ago.  I'm  being  stuffed  like  a  milk- 
fed  turkey." 

The  old  man  smiled  widely.  "  Et's  jes'  er  li'l 
snack  er  broth,"  he  said.  "  Reck'n  et'll  kinder  float 
eromr  de  yuddah  things.  Daph  ain'  got  no  use  fo* 
tea.  She  say  she  boun'  ter  mek  yo'  fit  fo'  ernud- 
dah  rassle  wid  dem  moc'sins,  Dis'  yeah  pot's  dat 
apple-buttah  whut  Miss  Mattie  Sue  sen'  yo'  by 
Rickey  Snyder." 

Valiant  sniffed  with  satisfaction.  "  I'm  getting 
so  confoundedly  spoiled,"  he  said,  "  that  I'm  tempted 
to  stay  sick  and  do  nothing  but  eat.  By  the  way, 
Uncle  Jefferson,  where  did  Rickey  come  from? 
Does  she  belong  here  ?  " 

"  No,  suh.     She  come  f'om  Hell's-Half-Acre." 


200      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"What's  that?" 

"  Dat's  dat  ornery  passle  o'  folks  yondah  on  de 
Dome,"  explained  Uncle  Jefferson.  "  Dey's  been 
dah  long's  Ah  kin  recommembah  —  jes'  er  ram- 
shackle lot  o'  shif'less  po'-white  trash  whut  git 
erlong  anyways  't  all.  Am'  nobody  boddahs  er- 
bout  dem  'less'n  et's  er  guv'ment  agint,  fo'  dey 
makes  dey  own  whisky,  en  dey  drinks  et,  too." 

"  That's  interesting,"  said  Valiant.  "  So  Rickey 
belonged  there  ?  " 

''  Yas,  suh ;  nebbah  'd  a-come  down  heah  'cep'in* 
fo'  Miss  Shirley.  She  de  one  whut  fotch  de  Wl 
gal  outen  dat  place,  en  put  huh  wid  Miss  Mattie 
Sue,  three  yeah  ergo." 

A  sudden  color  came  into  John  Valiant's  cheeks. 
"  Tell  me  about  it."  His  voice  vibrated  eagerly. 

"  Well,  suh,"  continued  Uncle  Jefferson,  "  dey 
was  one  o'  dem  low-down  Hell's-Half-Acrers,  name* 
Greef  King,  whut  call  hese'f  de  mayah  ob  de  Dome, 
en  he  went  on  de  rampage  one  day,  en  took  ahtah 
his  wife.  She  was  er  po'  sickly  'ooman,  wid  er  li'l 
gal  five  yeah  ol*  by  er  fust  husban'.  He  done  beat 
huh  heap  o'  times  befo',  but  dis  time  he  boun'  ter 
finish  huh.  Ah  reck'n  he  was  too  drunk  fo'  dat,  en 
she  got  erway  en  run  down  heah.  Et  was  wintah 
time  en  dah's  snow  on  de  groun'.  Dah's  er  road 
f'om  de  Dome  dat  hits  de  Red  Road  clost'  ter  Rose- 
wood —  dat  ar's  de  Dandridge  place  — en  she  come 
dah.  Reck'n  she  wuz  er  pitiful-lookin5  obstacle. 


UNCLE  JEFFERSON'S  STORY       201 

'Pcahs  lak  she  done  put  de  li'l  gal  up  in  de  cabin  lof 
en  hid  de  laddah,  en  she  mos'  crazy  fo'  feah  Greef 
git  huh.  She  lef  he  huntin'  fo'  de  young  'un  when 
she  run  erway.  Dey  was  on'y  Mis'  Judith  en  Miss 
Shirley  en  de  gal  Em'line  at  Rosewood,  'case 
Ranston  de  butlah  en  de  yuddahs  gone  ter  diss- 
tracted  meetin'  down  ter  de  Cullud  Mefodis'  Chu'ch. 
Well,  suh,  dey  wa'nt  no  time  ter  sen'  fo'  men.  Whut 
yo'  reck'n  Miss  Shirley  do?  She  ain'  afeahd  o' 
nuffin  on  dis  yerf,  en  she  on'y  sebenteen  yeah  ol'  den, 
too.  She  don'  tell  Mis'  Judith  —  no,  suh!  She 
run  out  ter  de  stable  en  saddle  huh  hoss,  en  she  gal- 
lop up  dat  road  ter  Hell's-Half-Acre  lak  er  shot 
outen  er  shovel." 

Valiant  brought  his  hands  together  sharply. 
t(  Yes,  yes,"  he  said.  "  And  then?  " 

"  When  she  come  ter  Greef  King's  cabin,  he  done 
foun*  de  laddah,  en  one  er  he  foots  was  on  de  rung, 
He  had  er  ax  in  he  han'.  De  po'  li'l  gal  was  peepin* 
down  thoo'  de  cracks  o'  de  flo',  en  prayin'  de  bestes' 
she  know  how.  She  say  arterwuhds  dat  she  reck'n 
de  Good  Lawd  sen'  er  angel,  fo'  Miss  Shirley  were 
all  in  white  —  she  didn'  stop  ter  change  huh  close. 
She  didn'  say  nuffin,  Miss  Shirley  didn'.  She  on'y 
lay  huh  han'  on  Greef  King's  ahm,  en  he  look  at 
huh  face,  en  he  drop  he  ax  en  go.  Den  she  dumb 
de  laddah  en  fotch  de  chile  down  in  huh  ahms  en 
take  huh  on  de  hoss  en  come  back.  Dat  de  way  et 
happen,  suh." 


202       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"  And  Rickey  was  that  little  child !  '*' 

"  Yas,  suh,  she  sho'  was.  In  de  mawnin'  er 
posse  done  ride  up  ter  Hell's-Half-Acre  en  take 
Greef  King  in.  De  majah  he  argyfy  de  case  fo' 
de  State,  en  when  he  done  git  thoo',  dey  mos'  put 
de  tow  eroun'  King's  nek  in  de  co'ot  room.  He 
done  got  th'ee  yeah,  en  et  mos'  broke  de  majah's 
ha'at  dat  dey  couldn'  give  him  no  mo'.  He  wuz 
cert'n'y  er  bad  aig,  dat  Greef  wuz.  Dey  say  he 
done  sw'ah  he  gwineter  do  up  de  majah  when  he 
git  out.  De  po'  'ooman  she  stay  sick  dah  at  Rose- 
wood all  wintah,  but  she  git  no  bettah  moughty  fas', 
en  in  de  spring  she  up  en  die.  Den  Miss  Shirley  she 
put  li'l  Rickey  at  Miss  Mattie  Sue's,  en  she  pay  fo* 
huh  keep  eber  sence  outer  huh  own  money.  Dat 
whut  she  done,  suh." 

Such  was  the  story  which  Uncle  Jefferson  told, 
standing  in  the  doorway.  When  his  shuffling  step 
had  retreated,  Valiant  went  to  the  table  and  picked 
up  a  slim  tooled  volume  that  lay  there.  It  was 
the  Lucile  he  had  found  in  the  hall  the  night  of 
his  arrival.  He  opened  it  to  a  page  where,  pressed 
and  wrinkled  but  still  retaining  its  bright  red  pig- 
ment, lay  what  had  been  a  rose. 

He  stood  looking  at  it  abstractedly,  his  nostrils 
widening  to  its  crushed  spicy  scent,  then  closed  it 
and  slipped  it  into  his  pocket. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
IN  DEVIL-JOHN'S  DAY 

HE  was  still  sitting  motionless  when  there  came 
a  knock  at  the  door  and  it  opened  to  admit 
the  gruff  voice  of  Doctor  Southall.     A  big  form 
was  close  behind  him. 

"  Hello.  Up,  I  see.  I  took  the  liberty  of  bring- 
ing Major  Bristow." 

The  master  of  Damory  Court  came  forward  — 
limping  the  least  trifle  —  and  shook  hands. 

"  Glad  to  know  you,  sah,"  said  the  major.  "  Al- 
low me  to  congratulate  you ;  it's  not  every  one  who 
gets  bitten  by  one  of  those  infernal  moccasins  that 
lives  to  talk  about  it.  You  must  be  a  pet  of  Provi- 
dence, or  else  you  have  a  cast-iron  constitution, 
sah." 

Valiant  waved  his  hand  toward  the  man  of  medi- 
cine, who  said,  "  I  reckon  Miss  Shirley  was  the 
Providence  in  the  case.  She  had  sense  enough  to 
send  for  me  quick  and  speed  did  it." 

"  Well,  sah,"  the  major  said,  "  I  reckon  under 
the  circumstances,  your  first  impressions  of  the  sec- 
tion aren't  anything  for  us  to  brag  about." 

203 


204      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"  I'm  delighted ;  it's  hard  for  me  to  tell  how 
much." 

"  Wait  till  you  know  the  fool  place,"  growled  the 
doctor  testily.  "  You'll  change  your  tune." 

The  major  smiled  genially.  "  Don't  be  taken  in 
by  the  doctor's  pessimism.  You'd  have  to  get  a 
yoke  of  three-year  oxen  to  drag  him  out  of  this 
state." 

"  It  would  take  as  many,  for  me."  Valiant 
laughed  a  little.  "  You  who  have  always  lived 
here,  can  scarcely  understand  what  I  am  feeling,  I 
imagine.  You  see,  I  never  knew  till  quite  recently 
—  my  childhood  was  largely  spent  abroad,  and  I 
have  no  near  relatives  —  that  my  father  was  a  Vir- 
ginian and  that  my  ancestors  always  lived  here. 
To  discover  this  all  at  once  and  to  come  to  this 
house,  with  their  portraits  on  the  walls  and  their 
names  on  the  title-pages  of  these  books !  "  He  made 
a  gesture  toward  the  glass  shelves.  "  Why,  there's 
a  room  up~stairs  with  the  very  toys  they  played  with 
when  they  were  children!  To  learn  that  I  belong 
to  it  all ;  that  I  myself  am  the  last  link  in  such  a 
chain!" 

"  The  ancestral  instinct,"  said  the  doctor.  "  I'm 
glad  to  see  that  it  means  something  still,  in  these 
rotten  days." 

"  Of  course,"  John  Valiant  continued,  "  every  one 
knows  that  he  has  ancestors.  But  I'm  beginning  to 
see  that  what  you  call  the  ancestral  instinct  needs 


IN  DEVIL-JOHN'S  DAY  205 

a  locality  and  a  place.  In  a  way  it  seems  to  me 
that  an  old  estate  like  this  has  a  soul  too  —  a  sort 
of  clan  or  family  soul  that  reacts  on  the  descend- 
ant/' 

"  Rather  a  Japanesy  idea,  isn't  it?  "  observed  the 
major.  "  But  I  know  what  you  mean.  Maybe 
that's  why  old  Virginian  families  hang  on  to  their 
land  in  spite  of  hell  and  high -water.  They  count 
their  forebears  real  live  people,  quite  capable  of 
turning  over  in  their  graves." 

"  Mine  are  beginning  to  seem  very  real  to  me. 
Though  I  don't  even  know  their  Christian  names 
yet,  I  can  judge  them  by  their  handiwork.  The 
men  who  built  Damory  Court  had  a  sense  of  beauty 
and  of  art." 

"  And  their  share  of  deviltry,  too,"  put  in  the 
doctor. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  admitted  his  host.  "  At  this  dis- 
tance I  can  bear  even  that.  But  good  or  bad,  I'm 
deeply  thankful  that  they  chose  Virginia.  Since 
IVe  been  laid  up,  I've  been  browsing  in  the  library 
here  — " 

"  A  bit  out  of  date  now,  I  reckon,"  said  the 
major,  "  but  it  used  to  pass  muster.  Your  grand- 
farther  was  something  of  a  book-worm.  He  wrote 
a  history  of  the  family,  didn't  he  ?  " 

"Yes.  I've  found  it.  The  Valiants  of  Vir- 
ginia. I'm  reading  the  Revolutionary  chapters 
now.  It  never  seemed  real  before  —  it's  been  only 


206      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

a  slice  of  impersonal  and  rather  dull  history.  But 
the  book  has  made  it  come  alive.  I'm  having  the 
thrill  of  the  globe-trotter  the  first  time  he  sees  the 
Tower  of  London  or  the  field  of  Waterloo.  I  see 
more  than  that  stubble-field  out  yonder ;  I  see  a  big 
wooden  stockade  with  soldiers  in  ragged  buff  and 
blue  guarding  it." 

The  major  nodded,  "  Ah,  yes,"  he  said.  "  The 
Continental  prison-camp." 

"  And  just  over  the  rise  there  I  can  see  an  old 
court-house,  and  the  Virginia  Assembly  boiling 
under  the  golden  tongue-lashing  of  lean  raw-boned 
Patrick  Henry.  I  see  a  messenger  gallop  up  and 
see  the  members  scramble  to  their  saddles  —  and 
then,  Tarleton  and  his  red-coats  streaming  up,  too 
late." 

"  Well,"  commented  the  doctor  deliberately,  "  all 
I  have  to  say  is,  don't  materialize  too  much  to  Mrs. 
Poly  Gifford  when  you  meet  her.  She'll  have  you 
lecturing  to  the  Ladies'  Church  Guild  before  you 
know  it.  She's  sailed  herself  out  here  already,  I 
understand."  v 

"  She  called  the  second  day :  my  first  visitor.  I've 
subscribed  to  the  Guild." 

The  doctor  chuckled.  "  Blame  curiosity !  That 
woman's  housemaid-silly.  She  can  spin  more  street 
yarn  than  any  ten  in  the  county.  Miss  Mattie  Sue's 
been  here,  too,  she  told  me.  Ah,  yes," —  looking 
quizzically  at  the  tray  — "  I  recognize  the  apple-but- 


IN  DEVIL-JOHN'S  DAY  207 

ter.  A  pot  just  like  that  goes  to  the  White  House 
every  Christmas  there's  a  Democrat  there.  She  re- 
minds me  of  a  little  drab-gray  wren  in  horn-rimmed 
spectacles." 

"  She's  perfectly  dear !  "  said  Valiant,  "  from  her 
hoops  to  the  calycanthus  bud  tied  in  the  corner  of 
her  handkerchief.  She  must  be  very  old.  She  told 
me  she  remembered  seeing  Jefferson  at  Monticello." 

"  She's  growing  younger,"  the  doctor  said. 
"  Sixteen  or  seventeen  years  ago  she  was  very  feeble 
and  the  Ladies'  Guild  agreed  to  support  her  for  life 
on  consideration  that  she  will  her  house  and  lot  to 
the  church,  next  door.  Mrs.  Poly  GifTord  refers 
to  her  now,  I  believe,  as  a  dispensation  of  Provi- 
dence. Did  she  bring  the  apple-butter  herself?  " 

"  No,"  smiled  John  Valiant.  "  She  sent  it  after- 
ward by  Miss  Rickey  Snyder." 

The  major  stroked  his  imperial.  "  Rickey's  an 
institution,"  he  said.  "  I  hope  she  gave  us  all  good 
characters.  I'd  hate  to  have  Rickey  Snyder  down 
on  me !  Have  you  heard  her  history  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Uncle  Jefferson  told  me." 

"  I'm  glad  of  that,"  shot  out  the  doctor.  "  Now, 
we  needn't  have  it  from  Bristow.  He's  as  fond  of 
oratory  as  a  maltese  cat  is  of  milk." 

"  He  gave  me  a  hint  of  the  major's  powers  in  that 
direction,  in  his  account  of  Greef  King's  trial." 

"  Humph !  "  retorted  the  doctor  gloomily,  "  that 
was  in  his  palmy  days.  He's  fallen  off  since  then. 


208      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

Plenty  of  others  been  here  to  bore  you,  I  reckon, 
though  of  course  you  don't  remember  all  the  names 
yet." 

Valiant  summoned  Uncle  Jefferson. 

"  Yas,  suh,"  grinned  the  old  darky  pride  fully, 
"  de  folkses  mos'  lam  de  face  off'n  dat-ar  ol' 
knockah.  Day  'fo'  yistiddy  dah  wuz  Mars'  Ouarles 
en  Jedge  en  Mis'  Chalmahs.  De  jedge  done  sen' 
er  streng  o'  silvah  perch." 

"  His  place  is  Gladden  Hall,"  the  major  said, 
"  one  of  the  finest  mansions  round  here.  A  sports- 
man, sah,  and  one  of  the  best  pokah  hands  in  the 
county." 

" —  En  yistiddy  dah's  Mars'  Chilly  Lusk  en  de 
Pen'letons  en  de  Byloes  en  Mars'  Livy  Stowe  f'om 
Seven  Oaks,  en  de  Woodrows  en  — " 

"That'll  do,"  said  the  major.  "I'll  just  run 
over  the  tax-list ;  it'll  be  quicker.  There  are  kindly 
people  here,  sah,"  he  went  on,  "  but  after  all,  it's  a 
narrow  circle.  We  have  our  little  pleasures  and 
courtships  and  scandals  and  we  are  satisfied  with 
them.  We're  not  gadabouts.  Our  girls  haven't 
all  flirted  around  Europe  and  they  don't  talk  of  the 
Pincio  and  the  Champs  Elysees  as  if  they  were 
Capitol  Hill  and  Madison  Street  in  Richmond.  But 
if  I  may  say  so,  sah,  I  think  in  Virginia  we  get  a 
»ittle  closer  to  life  as  God  Almighty  intended  it 
than  people  in  some  of  your  big  cities." 

"  Come,  Bristow,"  interrupted  the  doctor,  "  tell 


IN  DEVIL-JOHN'S  DAY  209 

the  truth.  This  dog-gone  borough  is  as  dull  as  a 
mud  fence  sticking  with  tadpoles.  There  isn't  a 
man  in  it  with  a  soul  above  horse-flesh." 

The  doctor's  shafts  to-day,  however,  glanced  off 
the  major's  buckler  of  geniality  like  the  Lilliputian 
arrows  from  Gulliver's  eye-glass.  "  I  hope  you 
ride,  Mr.  Valiant  ?  "  the  latter  asked  genially. 

"  I'm  fond  of  it,"  said  Valiant,  "  but  I  have  no 
horse  as  yet." 

"  I  was  thinking,"  pursued  the  major,  "  of  the 
coming  tournament." 

"Tournament?" 

The  doctor  cut  in.  "  A  ridiculous  cock-a-doodle- 
do  which  gives  the  young  bucks  a  chance  to  rig  out 
in  silly  toggery  and  prance  their  colts  before  a  lot  of 
petticoats !  " 

"  It's  an  annual  affair,"  explained  the  major ; 
"  a  kind  of  spectacle.  For  many  years,  by  the 
way,  it  has  been  held  on  a  part  of  this  estate  — 
perhaps  you  will  have  no  objection  to  its  use  this 
season  ?  —  and  at  night  there  is  a  dance  at  the  Coun- 
try Club.  By  the  way,  you  must  let  me  introduce 
you  there  to-morrow.  I've  taken  the  liberty  already 
of  putting  your  name  up." 

"  Good  lord !  "  growled  the  doctor,  aside.  "  He 
counts  himself  young!  If  I'd  reached  your  age, 
Bristow  — " 

"  You  have,"  said  the  major,  nettled.  "  Four 
years  ago !  —  As  I  was  saying,  Mr.  Valiant,  they 


210      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

ride  for  a  prize.  It's  a  very  ancient  thing  —  I've 
seen  references  to  it  in  a  colonial  manuscript  in  the 
Byrd  Library  at  Westover.  No  doubt  it's  come 
down  directly  from  the  old  jousts." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,"  cried  his  hearer  in 
genuine  astonishment,  "  that  Virginia  has  a  lineal 
descendant  of  the  tourney?  " 

The  major  nodded.  "  Yes.  Certain  sections  of 
Kentucky  used  to  have  it,  too,  but  it  has  died  out 
there.  It  exists  now  only  in  this  state.  It's  a  cu- 
rious thing  that  the  old  knightly  meetings  of  the 
middle  ages  should  survive  to-day  only  on  American 
soil  and  in  a  corner  of  Virginia." 

Doctor  Southall,  meanwhile,  had  set  his  gaze  on 
the  litter  of  pamphlets.  He  turned  with  an  ap- 
preciative eye.  "  You're  beginning  in  earnest. 
The  Agricultural  Department.  And  the  Congres- 
sional frank." 

"  I've  gone  to  the  fountainhead,"  said  Valiant. 
"  I'm  trying  to  find  out  possibilities.  I've  sent  sam- 
ples of  the  soil.  It's  lain  fallow  so  long  it  has  oc- 
curred to  me  it  may  need  special  treatment." 

The  major  pulled  his  mustache  meditatively. 
"  Not  a  bad  idea,"  he  said.  "  He's  starting  right 
—  eh,  Southall  ?  You're  bringing  the  view-point 
of  practical  science  to  bear  on  the  problem,  Mr. 
Valiant." 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  a  sad  sketch  as  a  scientist," 
laughed  the  other.  "  My  point  of  view  has  to  be 


IN  DEVIL-JOHN'S  DAY  211 

a  somewhat  practical  one.  I  must  be  self-support- 
ing. Damory  Court  is  a  big  estate.  It  has  grain 
lands  and  forest  as  well.  If  my  ancestors  lived 
from  it,  I  can.  It's  not  only  that,"  he  went  on  more 
slowly,  "  I  want  to  make  the  most  of  the  place  for 
its  own  sake,  too.  Not  only  of  its  possibilities  for 
earning,  but  of  its  natural  beauties.  I  lack  the 
resources  I  once  had,  but  I  can  give  it  thought  and 
work,  and  if  they  can  bring  Damory  Court  back  to 
anything  even  remotely  resembling  what  it  once 
was,  I'll  not  spare  either." 

The  major  smote  his  knee  and  even  the  doctor's 
face  showed  a  grim,  if  transient  approval.  "  I 
believe  you'll  do  it !  "  exclaimed  the  former.  "  And 
let  me  say,  sah,  that  the  neighborhood  is  not  un- 
aware of  the  splendid  generosity  which  is  responsi- 
ble for  the  present  lack  of  which  you  speak." 

Valiant  put  ouf  his  hand  with  a  little  gesture  of 
deprecation,  but  the  other  disregarded  it.  "  Con- 
found  it,  sah,  it  was  to  be  expected  of  a  Valiant. 
Your  ancestors  wrote  their  names  in  capital  letters 
over  this  county.  They  were  an  up  and  down  lot, 
but  good  or  bad  (and,  as  Southall  says,  I  reckon" 
—  he  nodded  toward  the  great  portrait  above  the 
couch — "  they  weren't  all  little  woolly  lambs)  they 
did  big  things  in  a  big  way." 

Valiant  leaned  forward  eagerly,  a  question  on  his 
lips.  But  at  the  moment  a  diversion  occurred  in 
the  shape  of  Uncle  Jefferson,  who  reentered,  bearing 


212       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

a  tray  on  which  sat  sundry  jugs  and  clinking 
glasses,  glowing  with  white  and  green  and  gold. 

"  You  old  humbug,"  said  the  doctor,  "  don't  you 
know  the  major's  that  poisoned  with  mint- juleps 
already  that  he  can't  get  up  before  eight  in  the 
morning?" 

"  Well,  suh,"  tittered  Uncle  Jefferson,  "  Ah  done 
foun'  er  mint-baid  down  below  de  kitchens  dis 
mawnin'.  Yo'-all  gemmun'  'bout  de  bigges'  expuhts 
in  dis  yeah  county,  en  Ah  reck'n  Mars'  Valiant  sho' 
'sist  on  yo'  samplin'  et." 

"  Sah,"  said  the  major  feelingly,  turning  to  his 
host,  "  I'm  proud  to  drink  your  health  in  the  typical 
beverage  of  Virginia!"  He  touched  glasses  with 
Valiant  and  glared  at  the  doctor,  who  was  sipping 
his  own  thoughtfully.  "  In  my  travels,"  he  said, 
"  I  have  become  acquainted  with  a  drink  called 
pousse-cafe,  which  contains  all  the  colors  of  the 
rainbow.  But  for  chaste  beauty,  sah,  give  me  this. 
No  garish  combination,  you  will  observe.  A 
frosted  goblet,  golden  at  the  bottom  as  an  autumn 
corn-ear,  shading  into  emerald  and  then  into  snow. 
On  top  a  white  rim  of  icebergs  with  the  mint  sprigs 
like  fairy  pine-trees.  Poems  have  been  written  on 
the  julep,  sah." 

"  They  make  good  epitaphs,  too,"  observed  the 
doctor. 

"  I  notice  your  glass  isn't  going  begging,"  the 
major  retorted.  "  Unc'  Jefferson,  that's  as  good 


IN  DEVIL-JOHN'S  DAY  213 

mint  as  grew  in  the  gyarden  of  Eden.  See  that 
those  lazy  niggers  of  yours  don't  grub  the  patch  out 
by  mistake." 

"  Yas,  suh"  said  Uncle  Jefferson,  as  he  retired 
with  the  tray.  "  Ah  gwineter  put  er  fence  eroun' 
dat  ar  baid  'fo'  sundown." 

The  question  that  had  sprung  to  Valiant's  lips 
now  found  utterance.  "  I  saw  you  look  at  the  por- 
trait there,"  he  said  to  the  major.  "  Which  of 
my  ancestors  is  it  ?  " 

The  other  got  up  and  stood  before  the  mantel- 
piece in  a  Napoleonic  attitude.  "  That,"  he  said, 
fixing  his  eye-glasses,  "  is  your  great-grandfather, 
Devil-John  Valiant." 

"Devil- John!"  echoed  his  host.  "Yes,  I've 
heard  the  name." 

The  doctor  guffawed.  "  He  earned  it,  I  reckon. 
I  never  realized  what  a  sinister  expression  that 
missing  optic  gives  the  old  ruffian.  There  was  a 
skirmish  during  the  war  on  the  hillside  yonder  and 
a  bullet  cut  it  out.  When  we  were  boys  we  used  to 
call  him  '  Old  One-Eye/  " 

"  It  interests  me  enormously."  John  Valiant 
spoke  explosively. 

"  The  stories  of  Devil- John  would  fill  a  mighty 
big  book,"  said  the  major.  "  By  all  accounts  he 
ought  to  have  lived  in  the  middle  ages."  Crossing 
the  library,  he  looked  into  the  dining-room.  "  I 
thought  I  remembered.  The  portrait  over  the  con- 


214      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

sole  there  is  his  wife,  your  great-grandmother. 
She  was  a  wonderful  swimmer,  by  the  way,"  he 
went  on,  returning  to  his  seat.  "  It  was  said  she 
had  swum  across  the  Potomac  in  her  hunting  togs. 
When  Devil- John  heard  of  the  feat,  he  swore  he 
would  marry  her  and  he  did.  It  was  a  love-match, 
no  doubt,  on  her  side ;  he  must  have  been  one  to  take 
with  women.  Even  in  those  days,  when  men  still 
lived  picturesquely  and  weren't  all  cut  to  the  same 
pattern,  he  must  have  been  unique.  There  was 
something  satanically  splendid  and  savage  about 
him.  My  great-uncle  used  to  say  he  stood  six  feet 
two,  and  walked  like  an  emperor  on  a  love-spree. 
He  was  a  man  of  sky-high  rages,  with  fingers  that 
could  bend  a  gold  coin  double. 

"  They  say  he  bet  that  when  he  brought  his  bride 
home,  she  should  walk  into  Damory  Court  between 
rows  of  candlesticks  worth  twenty-thousand  dol- 
lars. He  made  the  wager  good,  too,  for  when  she 
came  up  those  steps  out  there,  there  was  a  row  of 
ten  candles  burning  on  either  side  of  the  doorway, 
each  held  by  a  young  slave  worth  a  thousand  dollars 
in  the  market.  The  whole  state  talked  of  the  wed- 
ding and  for  a  time  Damory  Court  was  ablaze  with 
tea-parties  and  dances.  That  was  in  the  old  days 
of  coaching  and  red-heeled  slippers,  when  Virginia 
planters  lived  like  viceroys  and  money  was  only 
to  throw  to  the  birds.  They  were  fast  livers  and 
hard  drinkers,  and  their  passions  ran  away  with 


IN  DEVIL-JOHN'S  DAY  215 

them.  Devil-John's  knew  neither  saddle  nor 
bridle.  Some  say  he  grew  jealous  of  his  wife's 
beauty.  There  were  any  number  of  stories  told 
of  his  cruelties  to  her  that  aren't  worth  repeating. 
She  died  early  —  poor  lady  —  and  your  grand- 
father was  the  only  issue.  Devil- John  himself  lived 
to  be  past  seventy,  and  at  that  age,  when  most  men 
were  stacking  their  sins  and  groaning  with  the 
gout,  he  was  dicing  and  fox-hunting  with  the  young- 
est of  them.  He  always  swore  he  would  die  with 
his  boots  on,  and  they  say  when  the  doctor  told 
him  he  had  only  a  few  hours  leeway,  he  made  his 
slaves  dress  him  completely  and  prop  him  on  his 
horse.  They  galloped  out  so,  a  negro  on  either 
side  of  him.  It  was  a  stormy  night,  black  as  the 
Earl  of  Hell's  riding-boots,  with  wind  and  lightning, 
and  he  rode  cursing  at  both.  There's  an  old  black- 
gum  tree  a  mile  from  here  that  they  still  call  Devil- 
John's  tree.  They  were  just  passing  under  it  when 
the  lightning  struck  it.  Lightning  has  no  effect 
on  the  black-gum,  you  know.  The  bolt  glanced 
from  the  tree  and  struck  him  between  the  two 
slaves  without  harming  either  of  them.  It  killed  his 
horse,  too.  That's  the  story.  To  be  sure  at  this 
date  nobody  can  separate  fact  from  fiction.  Possi- 
bly he  wasn't  so  much  worse  than  the  rest  of  his 
neighbors  —  not  excepting  even  the  parsons. 
*  Other  times,  other  manners/  ' 

''  They  weren't  any  worse  than  the  present  gen- 


216       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

eration,"  said  the  doctor  malevolently.  "  Your 
four  bottle  men  then  knew  only  claret:  now  they 
punish  whisky-straight.  They  still  trice  up  their 
gouty  legs  to  take  after  harmless  foxes.  And  I 
dare  say  the  women  will  be  wearing  red-heeled  slip- 
pers again  next  year." 

The  major  buried  his  nose  in  his  julep  for  a  long 
moment  before  he  looked  at  the  doctor  blandly.  "  I 
agree  with  you,  Bristow,"  he  said ;  "  but  it's  the  first 
time  I  ever  heard  you  admit  that  much  good  of  your 
ancestors." 

"Good!"  said  the  doctor  belligerently.  "Me? 
I  don't!  I  said  people  now  were  no  better.  As 
for  the  men  of  that  time,  they  were  a  cheap  swag- 
gering lot  of  bullies  and  swash-bucklers.  When 
I  read  history  I'm  ashamed  to  be  descended  from 
them." 

"  I  desire  to  inform  you,  sari,"  said  the  major, 
stung,  "  that  I  too  am  a  descendant  of  those 
bullies  and  swash-bucklers,  as  you  call  them.  And 
I  wish  from  my  heart  I  thought  we,  nowadays, 
could  hold  a  tallow-dip  to  them.  Whatever  their 
habits,  they  had  their  ideals,  and  they  lived  up  to 
them." 

"  You  refer,  no  doubt,"  said  the  doctor  with 
sarcasm,  "  to  our  friend  Devil-John  and  his  ideal 
treatment  of  his  wife ! " 

"  No,  sah,"  replied  the  major  warmly.  "  I'm 
not  referring  to  Devil- John.  There  were  excep- 


IN  DEVIL-JOHN'S  DAY  217 

tions,  no  doubt,  but  for  the  most  part  they  treated 
their  women  folk  as  I  believe  their  Maker  made 
them  to  be  treated!  The  man  who  failed  in  his 
courtesy  there,  sah,  was  called  to  account  for  it. 
He  was  mighty  apt  to  find  himself  standing  in  the 
cool  dawn  at  the  butt-end  of  a  — " 

He  broke  off  and  coughed.  There  was  an  awk- 
ward pause  in  which  he  set  down  his  glass  noisily 
and  rose  and  stood  before  the  open  bookcase.  "  I 
envy  you  this,  sah/'  he  said  with  somewhat  of 
haste.  "  A  fine  old  collection.  Bless  my  soul,  what 
a  curious  volume !  " 

As  he  spoke,  his  hand  jerked  out  a  heavy-looking 
leather-back.  Valiant,  who  had  risen  and  stood  be- 
side him,  saw  instantly  that  what  he  had  drawn 
from  the  shelf  was  the  morocco  case  that  held  the 
rusted  dueling-pistol!  In  the  major's  hands  the 
broken  box  opened.  A  sudden  startled  look  darted 
across  his  leonine  face.  With  a  smothered  exclama- 
tion he  thrust  it  back  between  the  books  and  closed 
the  glass  door. 

Valiant  had  paled.  His  previous  finding  of  the 
weapon  had  escaped  his  mind.  Now  he  read,  as 
clearly  as  if  it  had  been  printed  in  black-letter  across 
the  sunny  wall,  the  significance  of  the  major's  con- 
fusion. That  weapon  had  been  in  his  father's  hand 
when  he  had  faced  his  opponent  in  that  fatal  duel ! 
It  flashed  across  his  mind  as  the  doctor  lunged  for 
his  hat  and  stick  and  got  to  his  feet. 


218      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"  Come,  Bristow,"  said  the  latter  irritably 
"  Your  feet  will  grow  fast  to  the  floor  presently. 
We  mustn't  talk  a  new  neighbor  to  death.  I've  got 
to  see  a  patient  at  six." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

JOHN    VALIANT   ASKS   A    QUESTION 

VALIANT  went  with  them  to  the  outer  door. 
A  painful  thought  was  flooding  his  mind. 
It  hampered  his  speech  and  it  was  only  by  a  violent 
effort  that  he  found  voice : 

"  One  moment !  There  is  a  question  I  would 
like  to  ask." 

Both  gentlemen  had  turned  upon  the  steps 
and  as  they  faced  him  he  thought  a  swift  glance 
passed  between  them.  They  waited  courteously, 
the  doctor  with  his  habitual  frown,  the  major's 
hand  fumbling  for  the  black  ribbon  on  his  waist- 
coat. 

"  Since  I  came  here,  I  have  heard  " —  his  tone 
was  uneven  — "  of  a  duel  in  which  my  father  was 
a  principal.  There  was  such  a  meeting?  " 

"  There  was,"  said  the  doctor  after  the  slightest 
pause  of  surprise.  "  Had  you  known  nothing  of 
it?" 

"  Absolutely  nothing." 

The  major  cleared  his  throat.  "  It  was  some- 
thing he  might  naturally  not  have  made  a  record 

219 


220      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

of,"  he  said.  "  The  two  had  been  friends,  and  it 
—  it  was  a  fatal  encounter  for  the  other.  The  doc- 
tor and  I  were  your  father's  seconds." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  before  Valiant 
spoke  again.  When  he  did  his  voice  was  steady, 
though  drops  had  sprung  to  his  forehead.  "  Was 
there  any  circumstance  in  that  meeting  that  might 
be  construed  as  reflecting  on  his  —  honor?" 

"  Good  God,  no!  "  said  the  major  explosively. 

"  On  his  bearing  as  a  gentleman  ?  " 

There  was  a  hiatus  this  time  in  which  he  could 
hear  his  heart  beat.  In  that  single  exclamation  the 
major  seemed  to  have  exhausted  his  vocabulary. 
He  was  looking  at  the  ground.  It  was  the  doctor 
who  spoke  at  last,  in  a  silence  that  to  the  man  in 
the  doorway  weighed  like  a  hundred  atmospheres. 

"  No !  "  he  said  bluntly.  "  Certainly  not.  What 
put  that  into  your  head  ?  " 

When  he  was  alone  in  the  library  Valiant  opened 
the  glass  door  and  took  from  the  shelf  the  morocco 
case.  The  old  shiver  of  repugnance  ran  over  him 
at  the  very  touch  of  the  leather.  In  the  farthest 
corner  was  a  low  commode.  He  set  the  case  on 
this  and  moved  the  big  tapestry  screen  across  the 
angle,  hiding  it  from  view. 

The  major  and  the  doctor  walked  in  silence  till 
they  had  left  Damory  Court  far  behind  them.  Then 
the  doctor  observed  caustically,  "  Nice  graceful 


JOHN  VALIANT  ASKS  A  QUESTION     221 

little  act  of  yours,  yanking  that  infernal  pistol  out 
before  his  face  like  that!  " 

"  How  in  Sam  Hill  could  I  guess  ?  "  the  other 
retorted.  "  It's  long  enough  since  I  saw  that  old 
case.  I  —  I  brought  it  there  myself,  Southall  — 
that  very  morning,  immediately  after  the  meeting. 
To  think  of  its  lying  there  untouched  in  that  empty 
room  all  these  years !  " 

There  was  another  silence.  "  How  straight  he 
put  the  question  to  us !  Right  out  from  the  shoul- 
der, for  all  the  world  like  his  father.  Well,  you 
said  the  right  thing.  There  are  times  when  a  gen- 
tleman simply  has  to  lie  like  one." 

The  doctor  shut  his  teeth  with  a  snap,  as  though 
he  had  caught  a  rabbit.  "  Look  here,  Bristow," 
he  said  hotly,  "  I've  never  cared  a  hang  what  your 
opinions  of  Valiant  were  after  that  duel.  I'll  keep 
my  own." 

"  Oh,  all  right,"  rejoined  the  major.  "  But  let's 
be  honest  with  ourselves.  If  you  could  split  a  sil- 
ver dollar  nine  times  out  of  ten  at  fifteen  paces, 
would  you  exchange  shots  with  a  man  who  was 
beside  himself  with  liquor?" 

"If  Valiant  was  a  dead  shot,  the  better  for 
him,"  said  the  doctor  grimly.  "If  Sassoon  was 
drunk,  so  much  the  worse  for  Sassoon.  His  con- 
dition was  the  affair  of  his  seconds.  Valiant  was 
no  more  responsible  for  it  than  for  the  quarrel. 
Neither  was  of  his  making.  Just  because  a  man 


222      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

is  a  crack  shot  and  stays, sober,  is  he  to  bear  any 
insult  —  stand  up  to  be  shot  at  into  the  bargain  — 
and  take  no  hand  in  the  game  himself?  Answer 
me  that  ?  " 

"  It  didn't  touch  his  honor,  of  course,"  replied 
the  major.  "  We  could  all  agree  on  that.  He  was 
within  his  rights.  But  it  wasn't  like  a  Valiant." 

They  were  at  the  parting  now  and  the  major 
held  out  his  hand.  "Oh,  well,"  he  said,  "it's 
long  enough  ago,  and  there's  nothing  against  his 
son.  I  like  the  young  chap,  Southall.  He's  his 
father  all  over  again,  eh  ?  " 

"  When  I  first  saw  him,"  said  the  doctor  huskily, 
"  I  thought  I  had  slid  back  thirty  years  and  that  our 
old  Beauty  Valiant  was  lying  there  before  me.  I 
loved  him,  Bristow,  and  somehow  —  whatever  hap- 
pened that  day  at  the  Hemlocks  —  it  couldn't  make 
a  damned  bit  of  difference  to  me ! " 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE   CALL   OF    THE    ROSES 

IN  the  great  hall  at  Damory  Court  the  candles 
in  their  brass  wall-sconces  blinked  back  from 
the  polished  parquetry  and  the  shining  fire-dogs, 
filling  the  rather  solemn  gloom  with  an  air  of 
warmth  and  creature-comfort. 

Leaning  against  the  newel-post,  Valiant  gazed 
about  him.  How  different  it  all  looked  from  the 
night  of  his  coming! 

It  occurred  to  him  with  a  kind  of  wonder  that  a 
fortnight  ago  he  had  never  known  this  house  ex- 
isted. Then  he  had  conceived  the  old  hectic  life 
the  only  one  worth  knowing,  the  be-all  and  end- 
all  of  modern  felicity.  It  was  as  if  a  single  stroke 
had  cut  his  life  in  two  parts  which  had  instantly 
recoiled  as  far  asunder  as  the  poles.  Strangely, 
the  new  seemed  more  familiar  than  the  old;  there 
had  been  moments  when  he  remembered  the  past 
almost  as  in  the  placid  day  one  recalls  a  thriving 
dream  of  the  night  before,  which,  itself  unreal,  has 
left  an  overpowering  impression  behind  it.  Little 
fragments  of  the  old  nightly  mosaic  —  the  bitt- 
music  across  the  dulled  glisten  of  pounded  asphalt, 

223 


224      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

the  featherbone  girl  flaring  high  in  air  in  electric 
rain,  a  pointed  clock-tower  spiking  the  upper  night- 
gloom,  the  faint  halitus  of  musk  from  a  downy 
theater-wrap  —  fluttered  about  him.  But  all  seemed 
far  away,  hackneyed,  shop-worn,  as  banal  as  the 
scenery  of  an  opera. 

He  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  floor,  teasing 
pricks  of  restlessness  urging  him.  He  opened  the 
door  and  passed  into  the  unlighted  dining-room. 
On  the  sideboard  sat  a  silver  loving-cup  that  had 
arrived  the  day  before  in  a  huge  box  with  his 
books  and  knick-knacks.  He  had  won  it  at  polo. 
He  lifted  it,  fingering  its  carved  handles.  He  re- 
membered that  when  that  particular  score  had  been 
made,  Katharine  Fargo  had  sat  in  one  of  the  drags 
at  the  side-line. 

But  the  memory  evoked  no  thrill.  Instead,  the 
thought  of  her  palely-cold,  passionless  beauty  called 
up  another  mobile  thoroughbred  face  instinct  with 
quick  flashings  of  mirth  and  hauteur.  Again  he 
felt  the  fierce  clutch  of  small  fingers,  as  they  fought 
with  his  in  that  struggle  for  his  life.  Each  line  of 
that  face  stood  before  him  —  the  arching  brows,  the 
cameo-delicacy  of  profile,  the  magnolia  skin  and  hair 
like  a  brown-gold  cloud  across  the  sun. 

A  soft  clicking  patter  trailed  itself  over  the  pol- 
ished floor  and  the  bulldog's  nose  was  thrust  be- 
tween his  knees.  He  bent  down  and  fondled  the 
satiny  head  to  still  the  sudden  surge  of  loneliness 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  ROSES      225 

that  had  overflowed  his  heart  —  an  ache  for  he 
knew  not  what.  A  depression  was  on  him,  he 
knew  not  why  —  something  that  had  a  keen  edge  of 
longing  like  physical  hunger. 

He  set  back  the  loving-cup  and  went  out  to  the 
front  porch  to  prowl  aimlessly  up  and  down  past 
the  great  gray-stained  Ionic  columns.  It  was  not 
late,  but  the  night  was  very  still.  The  Virginia 
creeper  waved  gently  to  and  fro  in  a  soundless 
breeze  that  was  little  more  than  a  whisper.  The 
sky  was  heavily  sprinkled  with  stars  whose  wan 
clustering  was  blotted  here  and  there  by  floating 
shreds  of  cloud,  like  vaporous,  filmy  leaves  stripped 
by  some  upper  gale  from  the  Tree  of  Heaven.  The 
lawn  lay  a  mass  of  mysterious  shadow,  stirring 
with  faint  chirps  and  rustles  and  laden  with  the 
poignant  scent  of  the  garden  honeysuckle.  He 
could  hear  the  howl  of  a  lonesome  hound,  a  horse 
neighed  impatiently  on  a  distant  meadow,  and  from 
far  down  the  Red  Road,  beyond  the  gate,  came  the 
rude  twitter  of  a  banjo  and  the  voice  of  the  strolling 
darky  player: 

"  All   Ah  wants  in  dis  creation  — 
Pretty  yellah  gal,  en  er  big  plantation !  " 

When  the  twangling  notes  died  away  in  the  dis- 
tance they  had  served  only  to  intensify  the  still- 
ness. He  felt  that  peculiar  detachedness  that  one 
senses  in  thick  black  dark,  as  though  he  and  his  im- 


226      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

mediate  surroundings  were  floating  in  some  sound- 
less, ambient  ether.  The  white  bulldog  scurried 
noiselessly  back  and  forth  across  the  clipped  grass, 
now  emerging  like  a  canine  ghost  in  the  light  from 
the  doorway,  now  suffering  total  eclipse.  Staring 
into  the  furry  gloom,  he  seemed,  as  in  those  mo- 
ments of  semi-delirium  in  the  forest,  to  see  Shir- 
ley's face  advance  and  retreat  as  though  it  lay  on 
the  very  pulsing  heart  of  the  darkness. 

He  stepped  down  to  the  graveled  drive  and  fol- 
lowed it  to  the  gate,  then,  bareheaded,  took  the 
Red  Road.  Along  this  highway  he  had  rattled  in 
Uncle  Jefferson's  crazy  hack  —  with  her  red  rose 
in  his  hand.  The  musky  scent  of  the  pressed  leaves 
in  the  book  in  his  pocket  seemed  to  be  all  about 
him. 

The  odor  of  living  roses,  in  fact,  was  in  the  air. 
It  came  on  the  scarce-felt  breeze,  a  heavy  calling 
perfume.  He  walked  on,  keeping  the  road  by  the 
misty  infiltrating  shimmer  of  the  stars,  with  a  sen- 
sation rather  of  gliding  than  of  walking.  Now 
and  then  from  some  pasture  came  the  snort  and 
whinny  of  horses  or  the  grunt  of  a  frog  from  a 
marshy  sink,  and  once,  where  a  narrow  path  joined 
the  road,  he  felt  against  his  trousers  the  sniffing 
nose  of  a  silent  and  friendly  puppy.  It  occurred 
to  him  that  if,  as  scientists  say,  colors  emit  sound- 
tones,  scents  also  should  possess  a  music  of  their 
own :  the  honeysuckle  fragrance,  maybe  —  soft 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  ROSES         227 

mellow  fluting  as  of  diminutive  wind-instruments; 
the  far- faint  sickly  odor  of  lilies  —  the  upper  regis- 
ter of  faery  violins;  this  spicy  breath  of  roses  — 
blending,  throbbing  chords  like  elfin  echoes  of  an 
Italian  harp.  The  fancy  pleased  him ;  he  could  im- 
agine the  perfume  now  in  the  air  carried  with  it 
an  under-music,  like  a  ghostly  harping. 

It  came  to  him  at  the  same  instant  that  this  was 
no  mere  fancy.  Somewhere  in  the  languorous 
night  a  harp  was  being  played.  He  paused  and  lis- 
tened intently,  then  went  on  toward  the  sound. 
Presently  he  became  aware  that  he  had  passed  it, 
had  left  it  on  one  side,  and  he  went  back,  stumbling 
along  the  low  stone  wall  till  it  opened  to  a  shadowy 
lane,  full  of  foliaged  whispers.  The  rose  scent  had 
grown  stronger;  it  was  almost,  in  that  heavy  air, 
as  if  he  were  breasting  an  etherial  sea  of  attar. 
He  felt  as  if  he  were  treading  on  a  path  of  rose- 
leaves,  down  which  the  increasing  melody  flowed 
crimsonly  to  him,  calling,  calling. 

He  stopped  stock-still.  He  had  been  skirting  a 
close-cropped  hedge  of  box.  This  had  ended 
abruptly  and  he  was  looking  straight  up  a  bar  of 
green-yellow  radiance  from  a  double  doorway. 
The  latter  opened  on  a  porch  and  the  light,  flung 
across  this,  drenched  an  arbor  of  climbing  roses, 
making  it  stand  out  a  mass  of  woven  rubies  set  in 
emerald. 

He  drew  a  long  sigh  of  more  than  delight,  for 


228      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

framed  in  the  doorway  he  saw  a  figure  in  misty 
white,  leaning  to  the  gilded  upright  of  a  harp.  He 
knew  at  once  that  it  was  Shirley.  Holding  his 
breath,  he  came  closer,  his  feet  muffled  in  the  thick 
grass.  She  wore  a  gown  of  some  gauze-like  ma- 
terial sprinkled  with  knots  of  embroidery  and  with 
her  lifted  face  and  filmy  aureole  of  hair,  she  looked 
like  a  tall  golden  candle.  He  stood  in  the  dense 
obscurity,  one  hand  gripping  the  gnarled  limb  of 
a  catalpa,  his  eyes  following  the  shapely  arms  from 
wrist  to  shoulder,  the  fingers  straying  across  the 
strings,  the  bending  cheek  caressing  the  carved 
wood.  She  was  playing  the  melody  of  Shelley's 
Indian  Serenade  —  touching  the  chords  softly 
and  tenderly  —  and  his  lips  moved,  molding  them- 
selves soundlessly  to  the  words: 

"  I  arise  from  dreams  of  thee, 

In  the  first  sweet  sleep  of  night, 
When  the  winds  are  breathing  low 

And  the  stars  are  shining  bright; 
I  arise  from  dreams  of  thee, 

And  a  spirit  in  my  feet 
Has  led  me  —  who  knows  how  ? 

To  thy  chamber  window,  Sweet !  * 

The  serenade  died  in  a  single  long  note.  As  if 
in  answer  to  it  there  rose  a  flood  of  bird-music  from 
beyond  the  arbor  —  jets  of  song  that  swelled  and 
rippled  to  a  soaring  melody.  She  heard  it,  too,  for 
the  gracile  fingers  fell  from  the  strings.  She  lis- 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  ROSES         229 

tened  a  moment,  with  head  held  "to  one  side,  then 
sprang  up  and  came  through  the  door  and  down  the 
steps. 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  then  a  single  stride  took 
him  from  the  shadow. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

BEYOND   THE    BOX-HEDGE 

AS  he  greeted  her,  his  gaze  plunged  deep  into 
hers.  She  had  recoiled  a  step,  startled,  to 
recognize  him  almost  instantly.  He  noted  the 
shrinking  and  thought  it  due  to  a  stabbing  memory 
of  that  forest-horror.  His  first  words  were  prosaic 
enough : 

"  I'm  an  unconscionable  trespasser,"  he  said.  "  It 
must  seem  awfully  prowly,  but  I  didn't  realize  I 
was  on  private  property  till  I  passed  the  hedge 
there/5 

As  her  hand  lay  in  his,  a  strange  fancy  stirred  in 
him :  in  that  wood-meeting  she  had  seemed  some- 
thing witch-like,  the  wilful  spirit  of  the  passionate 
spring  herself,  mixed  of  her  aerial  essences  and 
jungle  wildernesses;  in  this  scented  dim-lit  close 
she  was  grave-eyed,  subdued,  a  paler  pensive  woman 
of  under  half -guessed  sadnesses  and  haunting 
moods.  With  her  answer,  however,  this  gravity 
seemed  to  slip  from  her  like  a  garment.  She 
laughed  lightly. 

"  I  love  to  prowl  myself.  I  think  sometimes  I 
230 


BEYOND  THE  BOX-HEDGE          231 

like  the  night  better  than  the  day.  *  I  believe  in  one 
of  my  incarnations  I  must  have  been  a  panther." 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "  I  followed  the  scent 
of  those  roses?  I  smelled  it  at  Damory  Court." 

"  It  goes  for  miles  when  the  air  is  heavy  as  it 
is  to-night.  How  terrible  it  would  be  if  roses  were 
intoxicating  like  poppies!  I  get  almost  tipsy  with 
the  odor  sometimes,  like  a  cat  with  catnip." 

They  both  laughed.  "  I'm  growing  supersti- 
tious about  flowers,"  he  said.  "  You  know  a  rose 
figured  in  our  first  meeting.  And  in  our  last  — " 

She  shrank  momentarily.  "  The  cape  jessa- 
mines !  I  shall  always  think  of  that  when  I  see 
them!" 

"  Ah,  forgive  me !  "  he  begged.  "  But  when  I 
remember  what  you  did  —  for  me !  Oh,  I  know ! 
But  for  you,  I  must  have  died." 

"  But  for  me  you  wouldn't  have  been  bitten. 
But  don't  let's  talk  of  it."  She  shivered  suddenly. 

"  You  are  cold,"  he  said.  "  Isn't  that  gown  too 
thin  for  this  night  air  ?  " 

"  No,  I  often  walk  here  till  quite  late.     Listen !  " 

The  bird  song  had  broken  forth  again,  to  be  an- 
swered this  time  by  a  rival's  in  a  distant  thicket. 
"  My  nightingale  is  in  good  voice." 

"  I  never  heard  a  nightingale  before  I  came  to 
Virginia.  I  wonder  why  it  sings  only  at  night." 

"  What  an  odd  idea !  Why,  it  sings  in  the  day- 
time, too." 


232      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"  Really  ?  But  I  suppose  it  escapes  notice  in  the 
general  chorus.  Is  it  a  large  bird  ?  " 

"  No ;  smaller  than  a  thrush.  Only  a  little  big- 
ger than  a  robin.  Its  nest  is  over  there  in  that 
hedge  —  a  tiny  loose  cup  of  dried  oak-leaves,  lined 
with  hair,  and  the  eggs  are  olive  color.  How  pretty 
the  hedge  looks  now,  all  tangled  with  firefly 
sparks!" 

"  Doesn't  it !  Uncle  Jefferson  calls  them  '  light- 
ning-bugs.' ' 

"  The  name  is  much  more  picturesque.  But  all 
the  darky  sayings  are.  I  heard  him  telling  our 
butler  once,  of  something,  that  '  when  de  debble 
heah  dat,  he  gwine  sen'  fo'  he  smellin'-salts.'  Who 
else  would  ever  have  put  it  that  way  ?  Do  you  find 
him  and  Aunt  Daph  useful  ?  " 

"  He  has  been  a  godsend,"  he  said  fervently ; 
"  and  her  cooking  has  taught  me  to  treat  her  with 
passionate  respect.  As  Uncle  Jefferson  says  she 
can  *  put  de  big  pot  in  de  li'l  one  en  mek  soup  outer 
de  laigs.'  He's  teaching  me  now  about  flowers  — 
it's  surprising  how  many  kinds  he  knows.  He's  a 
walking  herbarium." 

"  Come  and  see  mine,"  she  said.  "  Roses  are  our 
specialty  —  we  have  to  live  up  to  the  Rosewood 
name.  But  beyond  the  arbors,  are  beds  and  beds 
of  other  flowers.  See  —  by  this  big  tree  are  speed- 
well and  delphinium.  The  tree  is  a  black-walnut. 
It's  a  dreadful  thing  to  have  one  as  big  as  that. 


BEYOND  THE  BOX-HEDGE          233 

When  you  want  something  that  costs  a  lot  of  money 
you  go  and  look  at  it  and  wonder  which  you  want 
most,  that  particular  luxury  or  the  tree.  I  know  a 
girl  who  had  two  in  her  yard  only  a  little  bigger 
than  this,  and  she  went  to  Europe  on  them.  But  so 
far  I've  always  voted  for  the  tree." 

"Perhaps  you've  not  been  sufficiently  "tempted." 

"  Maybe,"  she  assented,  and  in  a  bar  of  light 
from  a  window,  stooped  over  a  glimmering  patch 
to  pull  him  a  sprig  of  bluebells.  "  The  wildings 
are  hard  to  find,"  she  said,  "  so  I  grow  a  few  here. 
What  ghostly  tintings  they  show  in  this  half-light! 
My  corn-flowers  aren't  in  bloom  yet.  Here  are 
wild  violets.  They  are  the  single  ones,  you  know, 
the  kind  two  children  play  cock-fighting  with."  She 
picked  two  of  the  blossoms  and  hooked  their  heads 
together.  "  See,  both  pull  till  one  rooster's  head 
drops  off."  She  bent  again  and  passed  her  hand 
lovingly  over  a  mass  of  starry  blooms.  "  And  here 
are  some  bluet,  the  violet  roosters'  little  pale-blue 
hens.  How  does  your  garden  come  on  ?  " 

"  Famously.  Uncle  Jefferson  has  shanghaied  a 
half-dozen  negro  gardeners  —  from  where  I  can't 
imagine  —  and  he's  having  the  time  of  his  life 
hectoring  over  them.  He  refers  to  the  upper  and 
lower  terraces  as  '  up-  and  down-stairs/  I've  got 
seeds,  but  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  they  flower." 

"  Oh,  would  you  like  some  slips  ? "  she  cried. 
"Or,  better  still,  I  can  give  you  the  roses  already 


234      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

rooted  —  Mad  Charles  and  Marechal  Neil  and 
Cloth  of  Gold  and  cabbage  and  ramblers.  We  have 
geraniums  and  fuchsias,  too,  and  the  coral  honey- 
suckle. That's  different  from  the  wild  one,  you 
know." 

"  You  are  too  good!  If  you  would  only  advise 
me  where'  to  set  them !  But  I  dare  say  you  think 
me  presuming/' 

She  turned  her  full  face  to  him.  "  '  Presuming ! ' 
You're  punishing  me  now  for  the  dreadful  way  I 
talked  to  you  about  Damory  Court  —  before  I  knew 
who  you  were.  Oh,  it  was  unpardonable!  And 
after  the  splendid  thing  you  had  done  —  I  read 
about  it  that  same  evening  —  with  your  money,  I 
mean!" 

"  No,  no !  "  he  protested.  "  There  was  nothing 
splendid  about  it.  It  was  only  pride.  You  see  the 
Corporation  was  my  father's  great  idea  —  the  thing 
he  created  and  put  his  soul  into  —  and  it  was  foun- 
dering. I  know  that  would  have  hurt  him.  One 
thing  I've  wanted  to  say  to  you,  ever  since  the  day 
we  talked  together  —  about  the  duel.  I  want  to 
say  that  whatever  lay  behind  it,  my  father's  whole 
life  was  darkened  by  that  event.  Now  that  I  can 
put  two  and  two  together,  I  know  that  it  was  the 
cause  of  his  sadness." 

"  Ah,  I  can  believe  that,"  she  replied. 

"  I  think  he  had  only  two  interests  —  myself  and 
the  Corporation.  So  you  see  why  I'd  rather  save 


BEYOND  THE  BOX-HEDGE          235 

_* 

that  and  be  a  beggar  the  rest  of  my  natural  life. 
But  I'm  not  a  beggar.  Damory  Court  alone  is 
worth  —  I  know  it  now  —  a  hundred  times  what  I 
left." 

"  But  to  give  up  your  own  world  —  to  let  it  all 
slip  by,  and  to  come  here  to  a  spot  that  to  you  must 
seem  desperately  dull." 

"  I  came  here  because  the  door  of  the  old  life  was 
closed  to  me." 

"  You  closed  it  yourself/'  she  answered  quickly. 

"  Maybe.  But  for  whatever  reason,  it  was 
closed.  And  you  call  this  dull  —  dull?  Why,  my 
life  seems  never  to  have  had  real  interest  before!  " 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  think  that !  You  are  so  utterly 
different  from  what  I  imagined  you !  " 

"  I  could  never  have   imagined  you,"  he  said, 


never." 


"  I  must  be  terribly  outre." 

'  You  are  so  many  women  in  one.  When  I 
listened  to  your  harp  playing  I  could  hardly  believe 
it  was  the  same  you  I  saw  galloping  across  the 
fields  that  morning.  Now  you  are  a  different 
woman  from  both  of  those." 

As  she  looked  at  him,  her  lips  curled  corner- 
wise,  her  foot  slipped  on  the  sheer  edge  of  the 
turf.  She  swayed  toward  him  and  he  caught  her, 
feeling  for  a  sharp  instant  the  adorable  nearness  of 
her  body.  It  ridged  all  his  skin  with  a  creeping 
delight.  She  recovered  her  footing  with  an  ex- 


236      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

clamation,  and  turned  back  somewhat  abruptly  to 
the  porch  where  she  seated  herself  on  the  step, 
drawing  her  filmy  skirt  aside  to  make  a  place  for 
him.  There  was  a  moment  of  silence  which  he 
broke. 

"  That  exquisite  serenade  you  were  playing ! 
You  know  the  words,  of  course." 

"  They  are  more  lovely,  if  possible,  than  the 
score.  Do  you  care  for  poetry?  " 

"  I've  always  loved  it,"  he  said.  "  I've  been  read- 
ing some  lately  —  a  little  old-fashioned  book  I 
found  at  Damory  Court.  It's  Lucile.  Do  you 
know  it  ?  " 

"  Yes.     It's  my  mother's  favorite." 

He  drew  it  from  his  pocket.  "  See,  I've  got  it 
here.  It's  marked,  too." 

He  opened  it,  to  close  it  instantly  —  not,  how- 
ever, before  she  had  put  out  her  hand  and  laid  it, 
palm  down,  on  the  page.  "  That  rose !  Oh,  let 
me  have  it !  " 

"  Never !  "  he  protested.  "  Look  here.  When  I 
put  it  between  the  leaves,  I  did  so  at  random. 
I  didn't  see  till  now  that  I  had  opened  it  at  a  marked 
passage." 

"  Let  us  read  it,"  she  said. 

He  leaned  and  held  the  leaf  to  the  light  from  the 
doorway  and  the  two  heads  bent  together  over  the 
text. 

A  sound  fell  behind  them  and  both  turned.     A 


BEYOND  THE  BOX-HEDGE          237 

slight  figure,  in  a  soft  gray  gown  with  old  lace  at 
the  throat,  stood  in  the  doorway  behind  them. 
John  Valiant  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Ah,  Shirley,  I  thought  I  heard  voices.  Is  that 
you,  Chilly?" 

"  It's  not  Mr.  Lusk,  mother,"  said  Shirley.  "  It's 
our  new  neighbor,  Mr.  Valiant." 

As  he  bent  over  the  frail  hand,  murmuring  the 
conventional  words  that  presentations  are  believed 
to  require,  Mrs.  Dandridge  sank  into  a  deep  cush- 
ioned chair.  "  Won't  you  sit  down  ?  "  she  said. 
He  noticed  that  she  did  not  look  directly  at  him, 
and  that  her  face  was  as  pallid  as  her  hair. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  John  Valiant,  and  resumed 
his  place  on  the  lower  step. 

Shirley,  who  had  again  seated  herself,  suddenly 
laughed,  and  pointed  to  the  book  which  lay  between 
them.  "  Imagine  what  we  were  doing,  dearest ! 
We  were  reading  Lucile  together." 

She  saw  the  other  wince,  and  the  deep  dark  eyes 
lifted,  as  if  under  compulsion,  from  the  book-cover 
to  Valiant's  face.  He  was  startled  by  Shirley's  cry 
and  the  sudden  limp  unconscious  settling-back  into 
the  cushions  of  the  fragile  form. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

NIGHT 

A  QUICKER  breeze  was  stirring  as  John 
Valiant  went  back  along  the  Red  Road.  It 
brushed  the  fraying  clouds  from  the  sky,  leaving 
it  a  pale  gray-blue,  sprinkled  with  wan  stars.  He 
had  waited  in  the  garden  at  Rosewood  till  Shirley, 
aided  by  Emmaline  and  with  Ranston's  anxious 
face  hovering  in  the  background,  having  performed 
those  gentle  offices  which  a  woman's  fainting  spell 
requires,  had  come  to  reassure  him  and  to  say  good 
night. 

The  road  seemed  no  longer  dark ;  it  swam  before 
him  now  in  a  soft  winged  mistiness  with  here  and 
there  an  occasional  cedar  thrusting  grotesquely 
above  huddled  cobble-wall  and  black-lined  rail-fence. 
As  he  went,  her  form  swam  before  him.  The 
texture  of  each  shadowy  bush  seemed  that  gauzy 
drapery,  sprayed  with  lilies-of-the-valley,  and  the 
leaves  syllabled  her  name  in  cautious  whispers. 
That  brief  touch  of  her,  when  he  had  caught  her 
in  his  arms,  lingered,  as  the  memory  of  the  harp 
music  on  his  inner  ear,  pricking  his  senses  like  fine 

238 


NIGHT  239 

musk,  a  thing  of  soft  new  pulses  flashing"  over  him 
like  spurts  of  vapor. 

As  he  threw  off  his  coat  in  the  bedroom  he  had 
chosen  for  his  own,  he  felt  the  hard  corner  of  the 
Lucile  in  the  pocket,  and  drawing  it  out,  laid  it 
on  the  table  by  the  bedside.  He  seemed  to  feel 
again  the  tingle  of  his  cheek  where  a  curling  strand 
of  her  coppery  hair  had  sprung  against  it  when  her 
head  had  bent  beside  his  own  to  read  the  marked 
lines.  By  now  perhaps  that  riotous  crown  was  all 
unbound  and  falling  redly  about  her  shoulders,  those 
shoulders  no  longer  peeping  from  a  weave  of  lilies, 
but  draped  in  virginal  white.  Perhaps  she  knelt 
now  by  her  silk-covered  bed,  warming  the  coverlid 
with  her  breast,  her  down-bent  face  above  her  locked 
palms.  What  did  she  pray  for,  he  wondered.  As 
a  child,  his  own  prayers  had  been  comprehensive 
ones.  Even  the  savages  who  lived  at  Wishing- 
House  and  their  innumerable  offspring  had  been 
regularly  included  in  those  petitions. 

When  he  had  undressed  he  sat  an  hour  in  the 
candle-blaze,  a  dressing-gown  thrown  over  his 
shoulders,  striving  vainly  to  recreate  that  evening 
call,  to  remember  her  every  word  and  look  and  move- 
ment. For  a  breath  her  face  would  flush  sud- 
denly before  him,  like  a  live  thing;  then  it  would 
mysteriously  fade  and  elude  him,  though  he  clenched 
his  hands  on  the  arms  of  his  chair  in  the  fierce  men- 
tal effort  to  recall  it.  Only  the  intense  blue  of  her 


240      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

eyes,  the  tawny  sweep  of  her  hair  —  these  and  the 
touch  of  her,  the  consciousness  of  her  warm  and 
vivid  fragrance,  remained  to  wrap  all  his  senses  in 
a  mist  woven  of  gold  and  fire. 

Shirley,  meanwhile,  had  sat  some  time  beside  her 
mother's  bed,  leaning  from  a  white  chintz-covered 
chair,  her  anxiety  only  partially  allayed  by  reas- 
surances, now  and  then  stooping  to  lay  her  young 
cheek  against  the  delicate  arm  in  its  lacy  sleeve  or 
to  pass  her  hand  lovingly  up  and  down  its  outline, 
noting  with  a  recurrent  passion  of  tenderness  the 
transparency  of  the  skin  with  its  violet  veining  and 
the  shadows  beneath  the  closed  eyes.  Emmaline, 
moving  on  soft  worsted-shod  feet  about  the  dim 
room,  at  length  had  whispered : 

"  You  go  tuh  baid,  honey.  I  stay  with  Mis' 
Judith  till  she  go  tuh  sleep." 

"  Yes,  go,  Shirley,"  said  her  mother.  "  Haven't 
I  any  privileges  at  all?  Can't  I  even  faint  when  I 
feel  like  it,  without  calling  out  the  fire-brigade? 
You'll  pamper  me  to  death  and  heaven  knows  I 
don't  need  it." 

"  You  won't  let  me  telephone  for  Doctor  South- 
all?" 

"Certainly  not!" 

"  And  you  are  sure  it  was  nothing  but  the  roses  ?  " 

"  Why,  what  else  should  it  be  ?  "  said  her  mother 
almost  peevishly.  "  I  must  really  have  the  arbors 


NIGHT  241 

,* 

thinned  out.  On  heavy  nights  it's  positively  over- 
powering. Go  along  now,  and  we'll  talk  about  it 
to-morrow.  I  can  ring  if  I  want  anything." 

In  her  own  room  Shirley  undressed  thoughtfully. 
There  was  between  her  and  her  m6ther  a  fine  tenu- 
ous bond  of  sympathy  and  feeling  as  rare,  perhaps, 
as  it  was  lovely.  She  could  not  remember  when 
the  other  had  not  been  a  semi-invalid,  and  her  earli- 
est childhood  recollections  were  punctuated  with 
the  tap  of  the  little  cane.  To-night's  sudden  in- 
disposition had  shocked  and  disturbed  her;  to  faint 
at  a  rush  of  perfume  seemed  to  suggest  a  growing 
weakness  that  was  alarming.  To-morrow,  she  told 
herself,  she  would  send  Ranston  with  a  wagon-load 
of  the  roses  to  the  hospital  at  Charlottesville. 

She  slipped  on  a  pink  shell-shaded  dressing-gown 
of  slinky  silk  with  a  riot  of  azaleas  scattered  in  the 
weave,  and  then,  dragging  a  chair  before  the  open 
window,  drew  aside  the  light  curtain  and  began  to 
brush  her  hair.  She  parted  the  lustrous  mass  with 
long  sweeps  of  her  white  arm,  forward  first  over 
one  shoulder,  then  over  the  other.  The  silver  brush 
smoothed  the  lighter  ashen  ripples  that  netted  and 
fretted  into  a  fine  amber  lace,  till  they  lay,  a  rich 
warm  mahogany  like  red  earth.  The  coppery 
whorls  eddied  and  merged  themselves,  showing 
under-glints  of  russet  and  dun-gold,  curling  and 
clasping  in  flame-tinted  furrows  like  a  living  field 
of  gold  under  a  silver  harrow.  Outside  the  window 


242      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

the  stars  lay  on  the  lapis-lazuli  sky  like  white  flower- 
petals  on  still  deep  water,  and  in  the  pasture  across 
the  hedges  she  could  see  the  form  of  Selim,  her 
chestnut  hunter,  standing  ghostly,  like  an  equine 
sentinel. 

When  that  shimmering  glory  lay  in  two  thick 
braids  against  her  shoulders,  Shirley  rose  with  a  sigh 
and  went  to  her  writing-desk,  where  lay  her  diary. 
But  she  was  in  no  mood  to  write,  and  she  turned 
from  it,  frowning  a  little,  with  the  reflection  that 
she  had  not  written  in  it  since  the  night  of  the  cape 
jessamines. 

All  at  once  her  gaze  fell  upon  the  floor,  and  she 
shrank  backward  from  a  twisting  thread-like  thing 
whose  bright  saffron-yellow  glowed  sharply  against 
the  dark  carpet.  She  saw  in  an  instant,  however, 
that  it  was  nothing  more  dangerous  than  a  frag- 
ment of  love-vine  from  the  garden,  which  had  clung 
to  her  skirt.  She  picked  up  the  tiny  mass  of  ten- 
drils and  with  a  slow  smile  tossed  it  over  her  right 
shoulder  through  the  window.  "  If  it  takes  root," 
she  said  aloud,  "my  sweetheart  loves  me."  She 
leaned  from  the  sill  to  peer  down  into  the  misty  gar- 
den, but  could  not  follow  its  fall. 

Long  ago  her  visitor  would  have  reached  Damory 
Court.  She  had  a  vision  of  him  wandering,  candle 
in  hand,  through  the  empty  echoing  rooms,  looking 
at  the  voiceless  portraits  on  the  walls,  thinking  per- 
haps of  his  father,  of  the  fatal  duel  of  which  he 


NIGHT  243 

had  never  known.  She  liked  the  way  he  had  spoken 
of  his  father ! 

Or,  maybe  he  was  sitting  in  the  lonely  library, 
with  some  volume  from  its  shelves  on  his  knees. 
She  pictured  Uncle  Jefferson  fetching  his  pipe  and 
jar  of  tobacco  and  striking  the  match  on  his  broad 
foot  to  light  it.  She  remembered  one  of  the  old 
darky's  sayings :  "  Er  man  ain'  nachally  no  angel, 
but  'thouten  terbacker,  Ah  reck'n  he  be  pizen-ugly 
ernuf  ter  giv  de  Bad  Man  de  toof-ache !  "  In  that 
instant  when  her  cheek  had  touched  his  rough  tweed 
jacket,  she  had  been  sensible  of  that  woodsy  pipy 
fragrance. 

A  vivid  flush  swept  up  her  face  and  with  a  sud- 
den gesture  she  caught  her  open  palms  to  her  cheek. 
With  what  a  daring  softness  his  eyes  had  hazed 
as  they  looked  down  at  her  under  his  crisp  waving 
hair.  Why  was  the  memory  of  that  look  so  sharply 
swreet  ? 

As  she  leaned,  out  of  the  stillness  there  came  to  her 
ear  a  mellow  sound.  It  was  the  bell  of  the  court- 
house in  the  village.  She  counted  the  strokes 
falling  clearly  or  faintly  as  the  sluggish  breeze  ebbed 
or  swelled.  It  was  eleven. 

She  drew  back,  dropped  the  curtain  to  shut  out 
the  wan  glimmer,  and  in  the  darkness  crept  into  the 
soft  bed  as  if  into  a  hiding-place. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

AT    THE   DOME 

A  WARM  sun  and  an  air  mildly  mellow.  A 
faint  gold-shadowed  mist  over  the  valley 
and  a  soft  lilac  haze  blending  the  rounded  outlines 
of  the  hills.  A  breeze  shook  the  twigs  on  the 
cedars,  fluttered  the  leaves  of  the  poplars  till  they 
looked  a  quivering  mass  of  palpitating  silver,  bearing 
away  with  it  the  cool  elastic  grace-notes  of  the  drip- 
ping water,  as  it  sparkled  over  the  big  green-streaked 
rocks  at  the  foot  of  the  little  lake  at  Damory  Court. 
Over  the  wild  grape-vines  a  pair  of  drunken  butter- 
flies reeled,  kissing  wings,  and  on  the  stone  rim  of 
the  fountain  basin  a  tiny  brown-green  lizard  lay 
motionless,  sunning  itself.  Through  the  shrubbery 
a  cardinal  darted  like  a  crimson  shuttle,  to  rock  im- 
pudently from  a  fleering  limb,  and  here  and  there 
on  the  bluish-ivory  sky,  motionless  as  a  pasted 
wafer,  hung  a  hawk ;  from  time  to  time  one  of  these 
wavered  and  slanted  swiftly  down,  to  climb  once 
more  in  a  huge  spiral  to  its  high  tower  of  sky. 

Perhaps  it  wondered,  as  its  telescopic  eye  looked 
down.  That  had  been  its  choicest  covert,  that  dis- 
heveled tangle  where  the  birds  held  perpetual  carni- 

244 


AT  THE  DOME  ,  245 

val,  the  weasel  lurked  in  the  underbrush  and  the 
rabbit  lined  his  windfall.  Now  the  wildness  was 
gone.  The  lines  of  the  formal  garden  lay  again 
ordered  and  fair.  The  box-rows  had  been  thinned 
of  their  too-aged  shrubs  and  filled  in  anew.  The 
wilderness  garden  to-be  was  still  a  stretch  of  raked 
and  level  soil,  but  all  across  this  slender  green 
spears  were  thrusting  up  —  the  promise  of  buds 
and  blooms.  A  pergola,  glistening  white,  now  up- 
held the  runaway  vines,  making  a  sickle-like  path 
from  the  upper  terrace  to  the  lake.  In  the  barn 
loft  the  pigeons  still  quarrelled  over  their  new  cotes 
of  fresh  pine,  and  under  a  clump  of  locust  trees  at 
a  little  distance  from  the  house,  a  half-dozen  dolls' 
cabins  on  stilts  stood  waiting  the  honey-storage  of 
the  black  and  gold  bees. 

There  were  new  denizens,  also.  These  had  ar- 
rived in  a  dozen  zinc  tanks  and  willow  hampers,  to 
the  amaze  of  a  sleepy  express  clerk  at  the  railroad 
station:  two  swans  now  sailed  majestically  over  the 
lily-pads  of  the  lake,  along  its  gravel  rim  a  pair  of 
bronze-colored  ducks  waddled  and  preened,  and  its 
placid  surface  rippled  and  broke  to  the  sluggish 
backs  of  goldfish  and  the  flirting  fins  of  red 
Japanese  carp.  Hens  and  guinea-fowl  strutted  and 
ran  in  a  wire  wattle  behind  the  kitchen,  and  on  the 
wall,  now  straightened  and  repaired,  a  splendid  pea- 
cock spread  his  barbaric  plumage  of  spangled  purple 
and  screeched  exultingly  to  his  sober-hued  mate. 


246      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

The  house  itself  wore  another  air.  Its  look  of 
unkemptness  had  largely  vanished.  The  comb  of  the 
roof  had  been  straightened  and  the  warped  shutters 
repaired.  The  boards  of  the  porch  flooring  had 
been  relaid.  Moss  and  green  lichen  had  been 
scoured  from  the  bases  of  the  great  weather-beaten 
pillars.  These,  however,  bore  no  garish  coat  of 
new  paint.  The  soft  gray  tone  of  age  remained, 
but  the  bleakness  and  f orlornness  were  gone ;  there 
was  about  all  now  a  warmth  and  genial  bearing  that 
hinted  at  mellowed  beauty,  firelight  and  cheerful 
voices  within. 

Valiant  heaved  a  long  sigh  of  satisfaction  as  he 
stood  in  the  sunlight  gazing  at  the  results  of  his 
labors.  He  was  not  now  the  flippant  boulevardier 
to  whom  money  was  the  sine  qua  non  of  existence. 
He  had  learned  a  sovereign  lesson  —  one  gained  not 
through  the  push  and  fight  of  crowds,  but  in  the 
simple  peace  of  a  countryside,  unvexed  by  the 
clamor  of  gold  and  the  complex  problems  of  a  com- 
petitive existence  —  that  he  had  inherited  a  need  of 
activity,  of  achievement :  that  he  had  been  born  to 
do.  He  had  worked  hard,  with  hand  and  foot,  with 
hoe  and  mattock  —  strenuous  perspiring  effort  that 
made  his  blood  course  fast  and  brought  muscle- 
weariness  over  which  nature  had  nightly  poured  her 
soothing  medicaments  of  peace  and  sleep.  His 
tanned  face  was  as  clear  as  a  fine  brown  porcelain, 


AT  THE  DOME.  247 

his  eye  bright,  and  his  muscles  rippled  up  under  his 
skin  with  elastic  power. 

"  Chum/'  he  said,  to  the  dog  rolling  on  his  back 
in  the  grass,  "  what  do  you  think  of  it  all,  anyway  ?  " 
He  reached  down,  seized  a  hind  leg  and  whirling 
him  around  like  a  teetotum,  sent  him  flying  into  the 
bushes,  whence  Chum  launched  again  upon  him,  like 
a  catapult.  He  caught  the  white  shoulders  and  held 
him  vise-like.  "Just  about  right,  eh?  But  wait 
till  we  get  those  ramblers ! " 

"  And  to  think,"  he  continued,  whimsically  re- 
leasing him,  "  that  I  might  have  gone  on,  one  of 
the  little-neck-clam  crowd  I've  always  trained  with, 
at  the  same  old  pace,  till  the  Vermouth-cocktail- 
Palm-Beach  career  got  a  double  Nelson  on  me  and 
the  umpire  counted  me  out.  And  I'd  have  ended 
by  lazying  along  through  my  forties  with  a  bay- 
window  and  a  bunch  of  boudoir  keys !  Now  I  can 
kiss  my  hand  to  it  all.  At  this  moment  I  wouldn't 
swap  this  old  house  and  lanH,  and  the  sunshine  and 
that  '  gyarden  '  and  Unc'  Jefferson  and  Aunt  Daph 
and  the  chickens  and  tLe  birds  and  all  the  rest  of  it, 
for  a  mile  of  Millionaires'  Row." 

He  drew  from  his  jacket  pocket  a  somewhat  worn 
note  and  unfolded  the  dainty  paper  with  its  char- 
acteristic twirly  handwriting.  "  The  scarlet  gera- 
niums rimming  the  porch,"  he  muttered,  "  the  coral 
honeysuckle  on  the  old  dead  tulip-tree,  and  the 


248      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

fuchsias  and  verbenas  by  the  straight  walk.  How 
rfght  she  is!  They're  all  growing,  too.  I  haven't 
lost  a  single  slip."  He  caught  himself  up  short, 
strode  to  the  nearest  porch-pillar  and  rapped  on  it 
smartly  with  his  knuckles. 

"  I  must  knock  on  wood,"  he  said,  "  or  I'll  lose 
my  luck."  He  laughed  a  little.  "  I'm  certainly 
catching  Uncle  Jefferson's  superstitions.  Perhaps 
that's  in  the  soil,  too !  " 

He  went  into  the  house  and  to  the  library.  The 
breeze  through  the  wide-flung  bow-window  was 
fluttering  the  papers  on  the  desk  and  the  map  on  the 
wall  was  flapping  sidewise.  He  went  to  straighten 
it,  and  then  saw  what  he  had  not  noticed  before  — 
that  it  covered  something  that  had  been  let  into  the 
plaster.  He  swung  it  aside  and  made  an  exclama- 
tion. 

He  was  looking  at  a  square,  uncompromising 
wall-safe,  with  a  round  figured  disk  of  white  metal 
on  its  face.  He  knelt  before  it  and  tried  its  knob. 
After  a  moment  it  turned  easily.  But  the  resolute 
steel  door  would  not  open,  though  he  tried  every 
combination  that  came  into  his  mind.  "  No  use," 
he  said  disgustedly.  "One  must  have  the  right 
numbers." 

Then  he  lifted  his  fretted  frame  and  smote  his 
grimy  hands  together.  "  Confound  it !  "  he  said 
with  a  short  laugh.  "  Here  I  am,  a  bankrupt,  with 
all  this  outfit  —  clear  to  the  very  finger-bowls — • 


AT  THE  DOME.,  249 

handed  to  me  on  a  silver  tray,  and  I'm  mad  as  scat 
because  I  can't  open  the  first  locked  thing  I  find !  " 

He  ran  up-sairs  and  donned  a  rough  corduroy 
jacket  and  high  leather  leggings.  "  We're  going  to 
climb  the  hill  to-day,  Chum/'  he  announced,  "  and 
no  more  moccasins  need  apply." 

In  the  lower  hall,  however,  he  suddenly  stopped 
stock-still.  "  The  slip  of  paper  that  was  in  the 
china  dog !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  What  a  chump  I  am 
not  to  have  thought  of  it!"  He  found  it  In  its 
pigeonhole  and,  kneeling  down  before  the  safe, 
tried  the  numbers  carefully,  first  right,  then  left: 
17  —  28  —  94  —  o.  The  heavy  door  opened. 

"I  was  right!"  he  exulted.  "It's  the  plate." 
He  drew  it  out,  piece  by  piece.  Each  was  bagged 
in  dark-red  Canton  flannel.  He  broke  the  tape  of 
one  bag  and  exposed  a  great  silver  pitcher,  tarnished 
purple-blue  like  a  raven's  wing  —  then  a  tea-service. 
Each  piece,  large  and  small,  was  marked  with  the 
greyhound  rampant  and  the  motto.  "  And  to 
think,"  he  said,  "  that  my  great-great-grandfather 
buried  you  with  his  own  hands  under  the  stables 
when  Tarleton's  raiders  swept  the  valley  before  the 
surrender  at  Yorktown!  Only  wait  till  Aunt 
Daphne  gets  you  polished  up,  and  on  the  sideboard ! 
You're  the  one  thing  the  place  has  needed !  " 

With  the  dog  for  comrade  he  traversed  the  gar- 
den and  plunged  across  the  valley  below,  humming 


250      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

as  he  went  one  of  the  songs  with  which  Uncle  Jef- 
ferson was  wont  to  regale  his  labors : 

"  My  gran'mothah  lived  on  yondah  li'l  green, 
Fines'  ol'  lady  evah  wuz  seen. 
Tummy-eye,  tummy-oh,  tummy-umpy-tumpy-tee. 
Fines'  ol'  lady  evah  yo'  see !  " 

The  ridiculous  refrain  rang  out  through  the  be- 
wildering vistas  of  the  wooded  slope  as  he  swung 
on,  up  the  hill,  through  the  underbrush. 

The  place  was  pathless  and  overgrown  with  paw- 
paw bushes  and  sassafras.  Great  trees  stood  so 
thickly  in  places  as  to  make  a  twilight  and  the  sun- 
nier spots  were  masses  of  pink  laurel,  poison-ivy, 
flaming  purple  rhododendron  and  wine-red  tendrils 
of  interbraided  briers.  This  was  the  forest  land  of 
whose  possibilities  he  had  thought.  In  the  heart  of 
the  woods  he  came  upon  a  great  limb  that  had  been 
wrenched  off  by  storm.  The  broken  wood  was  of  a 
deep  rich  brown,  shading  to  black.  He  broke  off 
his  song,  snapped  a  twig  and  smelled  it.  Its  sharp 
acrid  odor  was  unmistakable.  He  suddenly  re- 
membered the  walnut  tree  at  Rosewood  and  what 
Shirley  had  said :  "  I  know  a  girl  who  had  two 
in  her  yard,  and  she  went  to  Europe  on  them." 

He  looked  about  him;  as  far  as  he  could  see  the 
trees  reared,  hardy  and  perfect,  untouched  for  a 
generation.  He  selected  one  of  medium  size  and 
pulling  a  creeper,  measured  its  circumference  and 


AT  THE  DOME  251 

gaging  this  measure  with  his  eye,  made  a  penciled 
calculation  on  the  back  of  an  envelope.  "  Great 
Scott!  "  he  said  jubilantly  to  the  dog;  "  that  would 
cut  enough  to  wainscot  the  Damory  Court  library 
and  build  twenty  sideboards !  " 

He  sat  down  on  a  mossed  boulder,  breathless,  his 
eyes  sparkling.  He  had  thought  himself  almost  a 
beggar,  and  here  in  his  hand  was  a  small  fortune! 
'  Talk  about  engagement  rings ! "  he  muttered. 
"Why,  a  dozen  of  these  ought  to  buy  a  whole 
tiara!" 

Far  below  him  he  could  see  the  square  tower  of 
the  old  parish  church  of  St.  Andrew.  The  day  be- 
fore he  had  gone  there  to  service,  slipping  into  a 
pew  at  the  rear.  There  had  been  flowers  in  silver 
vases  on  either  side  of  the  reading-desk,  and  dim 
hues  from  the  stained-glass  windows  had  touched 
the  gray  head  of  the  rector  above  the  brass  lectern 
and  the  crooked  oak  beams  of  the  roof,  and  he  had 
caught  himself  all  at  once  thinking  that  but  for  its 
drooping  hat,  Shirley's  head  might  have  outshone 
that  of  the  saint  through  whose  bright  mantle  the 
colors  came.  After  the  service  the  rector  had 
showed  him  the  vestry  and  the  church  books  with 
their  many  records  of  Valiants  before  him,  and  he 
had  sat  for  a  moment  in  the  Valiant  pew,  fancying 
her  standing  there  sometime  beside  him,  with  her 
trim  gloved  hand  by  his  on  the  prayer-book. 

At  length  he  rose  and  climbed  on,  presently  turn- 


252      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

ing  at  a  right-angle  to  bisect  the  strip  to  its  boundary 
before  he  paused  to  rest.  "  I'm  no  timber-cruiser/' 
he  said  to  himself  as  he  wiped  his  brow,  "  but  I  cal- 
culate there  are  all  of  three  hundred  trees  big  enough 
to  cut.  Why,  suppose  they  are  worth  on  an  aver- 
age only  a  hundred  apiece.  That  would  make  — 
Good  lord ! "  he  muttered,  "  and  I've  been  moon- 
ing about  poverty ! " 

The  growth  was  smaller  and  sparser  now  and  be- 
fore long  he  came,  on  the  hill's  very  crest,  to  the 
edge  of  a  ragged  clearing.  It  held  a  squalid  set- 
tlement, perhaps  a  score  of  dirt-daubed  cabins  little 
better  than  hovels,  some  of  them  mere  mud-walled 
lean-tos,  with  sod  roofs  and  window-panes  of  flour- 
sacking.  Fences  and  outhouses  there  was  none. 
Littered  paths  rambled  aimlessly  hither  and  thither 
from  chip-strewn  yards  to  starved  patches  of  corn, 
under-cultivated  and  blighted.  Over  the  whole 
place  hung  an  indescribable  atmosphere  of  disconso- 
late filth,  of  unredeemed  squalor  and  vileness. 
Razor-backed  hogs  rooted  everywhere,  snapped  at 
by  a  handful  of  lean  and  spiritless  hounds.  A 
slatternly  woman  lolled  under  a  burlap  awning  be- 
side one  of  the  cabins  from  whose  interior  came 
the  sound  of  men's  voices  raised  in  a  fierce  quarrel. 
Undisturbed  by  the  hideous  din,  a  little  girl  of  about 
three  years  was  dragging  by  a  string  an  old  cigar- 
box  in  which  was  propped  a  rag-doll.  She  was 
barelegged  and  barearmed,  her  tinv  limbs  burned 


AT  THE  DOME  253 

a  dark  red  by  the  sun,  and  she  wore  a  single  garment 
made  from  the  leg  of  a  patched  pair  of  overalls. 
Her  hair,  bleached  the  color  of  corn-silk,  fell  over 
her  face  in  elfin  wildness. 

With  one  hand  on  the  dog's  collar,  hushing  him 
to  silence,  Valiant,  unseen,  looked  at  the  wretched 
place  with  a  shiver.  He  had  glimpsed  many 
wretched  purlieus  in  the  slums  of  great  cities,  but 
this,  in  the  open  sunlight,  with  the  clean  woods 
about  it  and  the  sweet  clear  blue  above,  stood  out 
with  an  unrelieved  boldness  and  contrast  that  was 
doubly  sinister  and  forbidding.  He  knew  instantly 
that  the  tawdry  corner  was  the  community  known 
as  Hell's-Half-Acre,  the  place  to  which  Shirley  had 
made  her  night  ride  to  rescue  Rickey  Snyder. 

A  quick  glad  realization  of  her  courage  rushed 
through  him.  On  its  heels  came  a  feeling  of  shame 
that  a.  spot  like  this  could  exist,  a  foul  blot  on  such 
a  landscape.  It  was  on  his  own  land !  Its  denizens 
held  place  by  squatter  sovereignty,  but  he  was, 
nevertheless,  their  landlord.  The  thought  bred  a 
new  sense  of  responsibility.  Something  should  be 
done  for  them,  too  —  for  that  baby,  dragging  its 
rag-doll  in  the  cigar-box,  poor  little  soul,  abandoned 
to  a  life  of  besottedness,  ignorance  and  evil! 

As  he  gazed,  the  uproar  in  the  cabin  reached  a 
climax.  A  red-bearded  figure  in  nondescript  gar- 
ments shot  from  the  door  and  collapsed  in  a  heap  in 
the  dirt.  He  got  up  with  a  dreadful  oath  —  a 


254       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

thrown  jug  grazing  his  temple  as  he  did  so  —  and 
shaking  his  fist  behind  him,  staggered  into  a  near-by 
lean-to. 

Valiant  turned  away  with  a  feeling  almost  of 
nausea,  and  plunged  back  down  the  forest  hillside, 
the  shrill  laughter  of  the  woman  under  the  strip  of 
burlap  echoing  in  his  ears. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE    GARDENERS 

HE  saw  them  coming  through  the  gate  on  the 
Red  Road  —  the  major  and  Shirley  in  a  lilac 
muslin  by  his  side  —  and  strode  to  meet  them.  Be- 
hind them  Ranston  propelled  a  hand-cart  filled  with 
paper  bundles  from  each  of  which  protruded  a  bunch 
of  flowering  stems.  There  was  a  flush  in  Shirley's 
cheek  as  her  hand  lay  in  Valiant's.  As  for  him, 
his  eyes,  like  wilful  drunkards,  returned  again  and 
again,  between  the  major's  compliments,  to  her  face. 

"  You  have  accomplished  wonders,  sah !  I  had  no 
idea  so  much  could  be  done  in  such  a  limited  time. 
We  are  leisurely  down  here,  and  seldom  do  to-day 
what  can  be  put  off  till  to-morrow.  Real  Northern 
hustle,  eh,  Shirley?  You  have  certainly  primped 
the  old  place  up.  I  could  almost  think  I  was  look- 
ing at  Damory  Court  in  the  sixties,  sah !  " 

"  That's  quite  the  nicest  thing  you  could  have  said, 
Major/'  responded  Valiant.  "  But  it  needs  the 
flowers."  He  looked  at  Shirley  with  sparkling  eyes. 
"  How  splendid  of  you  to  bring  them !  I  feel  like 
a  robber." 

255 


256      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"With  our  bushels  of  them?  We  shall  never 
miss  them  at  all.  Have  you  set  out  the  others?  " 

"  I  have,  indeed.  Every  one  has  rooted,  too. 
You  shall  see  them."  He  led  the  way  up  the  drive 
till  they  stood  before  the  porch. 

"Gad!"  chuckled  the  major.  "Who  would 
think  it  had  been  unoccupied  for  three  decades  ?  At 
this  rate,  you'll  soon  be  giving  dances,  sah." 

"  Ah,"  said  Valiant.  "  That's  the  very  thing  I 
want  to  suggest.  The  tournament  comes  off  next 
week,  I  understand,  and  it's  been  the  custom  to  have 
a  ball  that  night.  The  tourney  ground  is  on  this 
estate,  and  Damory  Court  is  handier  than  the  Coun- 
try Club.  Why  wouldn't  it  be  appropriate  to  hold 
the  dance  here?  The  ground-floor  rooms  are  in 
order,  and  if  the  young  people  would  put  up  with 
it,  it  would  be  a  great  pleasure  to  me,  I  assure  you." 

"  Oh !  "  breathed  Shirley.  "  That  would  be  too 
wonderful ! " 

The  major  seized  his  hand  and  shook  it  heartily. 
"  I  can  answer  for  the  committee,"  he  said. 
"  They'll  jump  at  it.  Why,  sah,  the  new  genera- 
tion has  never  set  eyes  inside  the  house.  It's  a 
golden  legend  to  them." 

"  Then  I'll  go  ahead  with  arrangements." 

Shirley's  eyes  were  overrunning  the  cropped  lawn, 
which  now  showed  a  clear  smooth  slope  between  the 
arching  trees.  "  It  was  lovely  in  its  ruin,' '  she  said, 
"  but  it  was  pathetic,  too.  UncJ  Jefferson  used  to 


THE  GARDENERS  257 

say  '  De  ol'  place  look  lak  et  ben  griebin'  etse'f  ter. 
deff  wid  lonesomeness/  Somehow,  now  it  looks 
glad.  Just  hear  that  small  citizen !  " 

A  red  squirrel  sat  up  in  a  tree-crotch,  his  paws 
tucked  into  his  furry  breast,  barking  angrily  at 
them.  "  He's  shocked  at  the  house-cleaning,"  she 
said;  "  a  sign  he's  a  bachelor." 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Valiant. 

"  Maybe  he's  older  than  you,"  she  countered ; 
"  and  sot  in  his  ways." 

"  I  accept  him  as  a  warning,"  he  said,  and  she 
laughed  with  him. 

He  led  them  around  the  house  and  down  the 
terraces  of  the  formal  garden,  and  here  the  major's 
encomiums  broke  forth  again.  "  You  are  going  to 
take  us  old  folks  back,  sah,"  he  said  with  real  feel- 
ing. "  This  gyarden  in  its  original  lines  was  unique. 
It  had  a  piquancy  and  a  picturesqueness  that,  thank 
God,  are  to  be  restored!  One  can  understand  the 
owner  of  an  estate  like  this  having  no  desire  to 
spend  his  life  philandering  abroad.  We  all  hope, 
sah,  that  you  will  recur  to  the  habit  of  your  an- 
cestors, and  count  Damory  Court  home." 

Valiant  smiled  slowly.  "  I  don't  dream  of  any- 
thing else,"  he  said.  "  My  life,  as  I  map  it  out, 
seems  to  begin  here.  The  rest  doesn't  count  —  only 
the  years  when  I  was  little  and  had  my  father." 

The  major  carefully  adjusted  his  eye-glasses. 
His  head  was  turned  away.  "  Ah,  yes,"  he  said. 


258      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

.  "  The  last  twenty  years,"  continued  the  other, 
"  from  my  present  view-point,  are  valuable  mainly 
for  contrast." 

"  As  a  consistent  regimen  of  pate  de  foie  gras," 
said  Shirley  quizzically,  "  makes  one  value  bread 
and  butter?" 

He  shook  his  head  at  her.  "  As  starvation  makes 
one  appreciate  plenty.  The  next  twenty  years  are 
to  be  here.  But  they  hold  side-trips,  too.  Now 
and  then  there's  a  jaunt  back  to  the  city." 

"  Contrast  again  ?  "  she  asked  interestedly. 

"  Yes  and  no.  Yes,  because  no  one  who  has  never 
known  that  blazing  clanging  life  can  really  under- 
stand the  peace  and  blessedness  of  a  place  like  this. 
No,  because  there  are  some  things  which  are  to  be 
found  only  there.  There  are  the  galleries  and  the 
opera.  I  need  a  breath  of  them  both." 

'  You're  right,"  nodded  the  major.  "  Birds  are 
birds,  and  Melba  is  Melba.  But  a  sward  like  this  in 
the  early  morning,  with  the  dew  on  the  grass,  is 
the  best  opera  for  a  steady  diet." 

"  I  called  them  only  side-trips,"  said  John  Valiant. 

"  And  semi-occasional  longer  flights,  too,"  the 
major  reflected.  "  A  look-see  abroad  once  in  a  blue 
moon.  Why  not?" 

'  Yes.  For  mental  photographs  —  impressions 
one  can't  get  from  between  book-covers.  There's  an 
old  cloister  garden  I  know  in  Italy  and  a  particular 
river-bank  in  Japan  in  the  cherry-blossom  season, 


THE  GARDENERS  259 

and  a  tiny  island  with  a  Greek  castle  on  it  in  the 
^Egean.  Little  colored  memories  for  me  to  bring 
away  to  dream  over.  But  always  I  come  back  here 
to  Damory  Court.  For  this  is  —  home !  " 

They  walked  beneath  the  pergola  to  the  lake, 
where  Shirley  gave  a  cry  of  delight  at  sight  of  its 
feathered  population.  "  Where  did  you  get  them 
from  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Washington.     In  crates." 

"  That  explains  it,"  she  exclaimed.  "  One  day 
last  week  the  little  darkies  in  the  village  all  in- 
sisted a  circus  was  coming.  They  must  have  seen 
these  being  hauled  here.  They  watched  the  whole 
afternoon  for  the  elephants." 

"  Poor  youngsters !  "  he  said.  "  It's  a  shame  to 
fool  them.  But  I've  had  all  the  circus  I  want  get- 
ting the  live  stock  installed." 

"  They  won't  suffer,"  said  the  major.  "  Rickey 
Snyder'll  get  them  up  a  three-ringed  show  at  the 
drop  of  a  hat  and  drop  it  herself.  Besides,  there's 
tournament  day  coming,  and  they  can  live  on  that. 
I  see  you've  dredged  out  some  of  the  lilies." 

"  Yes.     I  take  my  dip  here  every  morning." 

"  We  used  to  have  a  diving-board  when  we  were 
little  shavers,"  pursued  the  major.  "  I  remember 
once,  your  father — " 

He  cleared  his  throat  and  stopped  dead. 

"  Please,"  said  John  Valiant,  "  I  —  I  like  to  hegr 
about  him." 


26o      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"  It  was  only  that  I  struck  my  head  on  a  rock 
on  the  bottom  and  —  stayed  down.  The  others 
were  frightened,  but  he  —  he  dove  down  again  and 
again  till  he  brought  me  out.  It  was  a  narrow 
squeak,  I  reckon/' 

A  silence  fell.  Looking  at  the  tall  muscular  form 
beside  her,  Shirley  had  a  sudden  vision  of  a  de- 
termined little  body  cleaving  the  dark  water,  over 
and  over,  now  rising  panting  for  breath,  now  plung- 
ing again,  never  giving  up.  And  she  told  herself 
that  the  son  was  the  same  sort.  That  hard  set  of 
the  jaw,  those  firm  lips,  would  know  no  flinching. 
He  might  suffer,  but  he  would  be  strong.  Subcon- 
sciously her  mind  was  also  swiftly  contrasting  him 
with  Chilly  Lusk:  the  same  spare  lithe  frame  but 
set  off  by  light  skin,  brown  hair  and  hazel  eyes; 
the  two  faces,  alike  sharply  and  clearly  chiseled, 
but  this  one  purged  of  the  lazy  scorn,  the  satiety, 
and  reckless  indulgence. 

Half  unconsciously  she  spoke  her  thought  aloud : 
"  You  look  like  your  father,  do  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  there's  a  strong  likeness.  I 
have  a  photograph  which  I'll  show  you  sometime. 
But  how  did  you  know  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  I  only  guessed,"  she  said  in  some  con- 
fusion. To  cover  this  she  stooped  by  the  pebbly 
marge  and  held  out  her  hand  to  the  bronze  ducks 
that  pushed  and  gobbled  about  her  fingers.  "  What 
have  you  named  them  ?  "  she  asked. 


THE  GARDENERS  261 

"  Nothing.     You  christen  them." 

"  Very  well.  The  light  one  shall  be  Peezletree 
and  the  dark  one  Pilgarlic.  I  got  the  names  from 
John  Jasper  —  he  was  Virginia's  famous  negro 
preacher.  I  once  heard  him  hold  forth  when  he 
read  from  one  of  the  Psalms  —  the  one  about  the 
harp  and  the  psaltery  —  and  he  called  it  peezletree." 

"  Speaking  of  ducks,"  said  the  major,  tweaking 
his  gray  imperial,  "  reminds  me  of  Judge  Chalmers' 
white  mallard.  He  had  a  pair  that  were  so  much 
in  love  they  did  nothing  but  loaf  around  honey- 
cafuddling  with  their  wings  over  each  other's  backs. 
It  was  a  lesson  in  domesticity  for  the  community, 
sah.  Well,  the  drake  got  shot  for  a  wild  one,  and 
if  you'll  believe  it,  the  poor  little  duck  was  that 
inconsolable  it  would  have  brought  tears  to  your 
eyes.  The  whole  Chalmers  family  were  affected." 

Shirley  had  put  one  hand  over  her  mouth  to  re- 
press a  smile.  "  Major,  Major !  "  she  murmured  re- 
provingly. But  his  guilty  glance  avoided  her. 

"  Yes,  sah,  nothing  would  console  her.  So  at 
last  Chalmers  got  another  drake,  the  handsomest  he 
could  find,  and  trotted  him  out  to  please  her.  What 
do  you  reckon  that  little  white  duck  did?  She 
looked  at  the  judge  once  reproachfully  and  then 
waddled  down  to  a  black  muck-bed  and  lay  down  in 
it.  She  came  out  with  as  fine  a  suit  of  mourning 
as  you  ever  saw.  And  believe  it  or  not,  sah,  but 
she  wouldn't  go  in  the  water  for  ten  days ! " 


262      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

Valiant's  laugh  rang  out  over  the  lake  —  to  be 
answered  by  a  sudden  sharp  screech  from  the  terrace, 
where  the  peacock  strutted,  a  blaze  of  spangled 
purple  and  gold.  They  turned  to  see  Aunt  Daphne 
issue  from  the  kitchen,  twig-broom  in  hand. 

"Heah!"  she  exclaimed.  "What  fo'  yo' 
kyahin'  on  like  er  wil'  gyraff  we'n  we  got  comp'ny, 
yo'  triflin'  ol'  fan-tail,  yo' !  Git  outen  heah!" 
She  waved  her  weapon  and  the  bird,  with  a  raucous 
shriek  of  defiance,  retired  in  ruffled  disorder.  The 
master  of  Damory  Court  looked  at  Shirley.  "  What 
shall  we  name  him?  " 

"  I'd  call  him  Fire-Cracker  if  he  goes  off  like 
that,"  she  said.  And  Fire-Cracker  the  bird  was 
christened  forthwith. 

"And  now,"  said  Shirley,  "let's  set  out  the 
ramblers." 

The  major  had  brought  a  rough  plan,  sketched 
from  memory,  of  the  old  arrangement  of  the  formal 
garden.  "  I'll  just  go  over  the  lines  of  the  beds  with 
Unc'  Jefferson,"  he  proposed,  "  while  you  two  potter 
over  these  roses."  So  Valiant  and  Shirley  walked 
back  up  the  slope  beneath  the  pergola  together.  The 
sun  was  westering  fast,  and  long  lilac  cloud-trails 
lay  over  the  terraces.  But  the  bumbling  bees  were 
still  busy  in  the  honeysuckle  and  hawking  dragon- 
flies  shot  hither  and  thither.  A  robin  was  tilting  on 
the  rim  of  the  fountain  and  it  looked  at  them  with 
head  turned  sidewise,  with  a  low  sweet  pi/  that 


THE  GARDENERS  263 

mingled  with  the  trickling  laugh  of  the  falling 
water. 

With  Ranston  puffing  and  blowing  like  a  black 
porpoise  over  his  creaking  go-cart,  they  planted  the 
ramblers  —  crimson  and  pink  and  white  —  Valiant 
much  of  the  time  on  his  knees,  his  hands  plunging 
deep  into  the  black  spongy  earth,  and  Shirley  with 
broad  hat  flung  on  the  grass,  her  fingers  separat- 
ing the  clinging  thread-like  roots  and  her  small 
arched  foot  tamping  down  the  soil  about  them.  Her 
hair  —  the  color  of  wet  raw  wood  in  the  sunlight 
—  was  very  near  the  brown  head  and  sometimes 
their  fingers  touched  over  the  work.  Once,  as  they 
stood  up,  flushed  with  the  exercise,  a  great  black 
and  orange  butterfly,  dazed  with  the  sun-glow, 
alighted  on  Valiant's  rolled-up  sleeve.  He  held  his 
arm  perfectly  still  and  blew  gently  on  the  wavering 
pinions  till  it  swam  away.  When  a  redbird  flirted 
by,  to  his  delight  she  whistled  its  call  so  perfectly 
that  it  wheeled  in  mid-flight  and  tilted  inquiringly 
back  toward  them. 

As  they  descended  the  terrace  again  to  the  per- 
gola, he  said,  "  There's  only  one  thing  lacking  at 
Damory  Court  —  a  sun-dial." 

''  Then  you  haven't  found  it?  "  she  cried  delight- 
edly. "  Come  and  let  me  show  you." 

She  led  the  way  through  the  maze  of  beds  at  one 
side  till  they  reached  a  hedge  laced  thickly  with 
Virginia  creeper.  He  parted  this  leafy  screen,  bend- 


264      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

ing  back  the  springing  fronds  that  thrust  against  the 
flimsy  muslin  of  her  gown  and  threatened  to  spear 
the  pink-rosed  hat  that  cast  an  adorable  warm  tint 
over  her  creamy  face,  thinking  that  never  had  the 
old  place  seen  such  a  picture  as  she  made  framed 
in  the  deep  green. 

Some  such  thought  was  in  the  major's  mind,  too, 
as  he  came  slowly  up  the  terrace  below.  He  paused, 
to  take  off  his  hat  and  wipe  his  brow. 

"  With  the  place  all  fixed  up  this  way/'  he  sighed 
to  himself,  "  I  could  believe  it  was  only  last  week 
that  Beauty  Valiant  and  Southall  and  I  were  boys, 
loafing  around  this  gyarden.  And  to  think  that 
now  it's  Valiant's  son  and  Judith's  daughter !  Why, 
it  seems  like  yesterday  that  Shirley  there  was  only 
knee-high  to  a  grasshopper  —  and  I  used  to  tell 
her  her  hair  was  that  color  because  she  ran  through 
hell  bareheaded.  I'm  about  a  thousand  years  old, 
I  reckon !  " 

Meanwhile  the  two  figures  above  had  pushed 
through  the  tangle  into  a  circular  sunny  space  where 
stood  a  short  round  pillar  of  red  onyx.  It  was  a 
sun-dial,  its  vine-clad  disk  cut  of  gray  polished  stone 
in  which  its  metal  tongue  was  socketed.  Round 
the  outer  edge  of  the  disk  ran  an  inscription  in 
archaic  lettering.  Valiant  pulled  away  the  cluster- 
ing ivy  leaves  and  read :  /  count  no  hours  but  the 
happy  ones. 

"  If  that  had  only  been  true!  "  he  said. 


THE  GARDENERS  265 

"  It  is  true.  See  how  the  vines  hid  the  sun  from 
it.  It  ceased  to  mark  the  time  after  the  Court  was 
deserted." 

He  snapped  the  clinging  tendrils  and  swept  the 
cluster  from  its  stone  face.  "  It  shall  begin  to  count 
again  from  this  moment.  Will  it  mark  only  happy 
hours  for  me,  I  wonder?  I'll  bribe  it  with  flowers." 

"  White  for  happiness/'  she  said. 

"  I'll  put  moonflowers  at  its  base  and  where  you 
are  standing,  Madonna  lilies.  The  outer  part  of 
the  circle  shall  have  bridal-wreatH  and  white  irises, 
and  they  shall  shade  out  into  pastel  colors  — 
mauves  and  grays  and  heliotropes.  Oh,  I  shall  love 
this  spot !  —  perhaps  sometime  the  best  of  all." 

"  Which  do  you  love  the  most  now  ?  " 

He  leaned  slightly  toward  her,  one  hand  on  the 
dial's  time-notched  rim.  "  Don't  you  know  ?  "  he 
said  in  a  lower  voice.  "  Could  any  other  spot  mean 
to  me  what  that  acre  under  the  hemlocks  means? " 

Her  face  was  turned  from  him,  her  fingers  pulling 
at  the  drifting  vine,  and  a  splinter  of  sunlight 
tangled  in  her  hair  like  a  lace  of  fireflies. 

"  I  could  never  forget  it,"  he  continued.  "  The 
thing  that  spoiled  my  father's  life  happened  there, 
yet  there  we  two  first  talked,  and  there  you  — " 

"  Don't !  "  she  said,  facing  him.     "  Don't !  " 

"Ah,  let  me  speak!  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I 
shall  carry  the  memory  of  that  afternoon,  and  of 
your  brave  kindness,  always,  always!  If  I  were 


266      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

never  to  see  you  again  in  this  life,  I  should  always 
treasure  it.  If  I  died  of  thirst  in  some  Sahara, 
it  would  be  the  last  thing  I  should  remember  —  your 
face  would  be  the  last  thing  I  should  see !  If  I  — " 

He  paused,  his  veins  beating  hard  under  the  sav- 
age self-repression,  his  hand  trembling  against  the 
stone,  his  voice  a  traitor,  yielding  to  something  that 
rose  in  his  throat  to  choke  the  stumbling  words. 

In  the  silence  there  was  the  sound  of  a  slow  foot- 
fall on  the  gravel  walk,  and  at  the  same  moment  he 
saw  a  magical  change.  Shirley  drew  back.  The 
soft  gentian  blue  of  her  eyes  darkened.  The  lips 
that  an  instant  before  had  been  tremulous,  parted  in 
a  low  delicious  laugh.  She  swept  him  a  deep 
curtsey. 

"  I  am  beholden  to  you,  sir,"  she  said  gaily,  "  for 
a  most  knightly  compliment.  There's  the  major. 
Come  and  let  us  show  him  where  we've  planted  the 
ramblers." 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

TOURNAMENT   DAY 

THE  noon  sun  of  tournament  day  shone  bril- 
liantly over  the  village,  drowsy  no  longer,  for 
many  vehicles  were  hitched  at  the  curb,  or  moved 
leisurely  along  the  leafy  street:  big,  canvas-topped 
country  wagons  drawn  by  shaggy-hoofed  horses 
and  set  with  chairs  that  had  bumped  and  jostled 
their  holiday  loads  from  outlying  tobacco  plantation 
and  stud-farm;  sober,  black-covered  buggies,  long, 
narrow,  springless  buckboards,  frivolous  side-bar 
runabouts  and  antique  shays  resurrected  from  the 
primeval  depths  of  cobw ebbed  stables,  relics  of 
tarnished  grandeur  and  faded  fortune.  Here  and 
there  a  motor  crept,  a  bilious  and  replete  beetle 
among  insects  of  wider  wing.  Knots  of  high- 
booted  men  conversed  on  street  corners,  men  hand- 
cuffed, it  would  seem,  to  their  whips;  children 
romped  and  ran  hither  and  thither ;  and  through  all 
sifted  a  varicolored  stream  of  negroes,  male  and 
female,  good-natured  and  voluble.  For  tourna- 
ment day  was  a  county  event,  and  the  annual  sport 

267 


268      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

of  the  quality  had  long  outstripped  even  circus  day 
in  general  popularity. 

At  midday  vehicles  resolved  themselves  into 
luncheon-booths  —  hampers  stowed  away  beneath 
the  seats,  disclosing  all  manner  of  picnic  edibles  — 
the  court-house  yard  was  an  array  of  grass-spread 
table-cloths,  and  an  air  of  plenty  reigned. 

Within  Mrs.  Merryweather  Mason's  brown  house 
hospitality  sat  enthroned  and  the  generous  dining- 
room  was  held  by  a  regiment  of  feminine  out-of- 
town  acquaintances.  At  intervals  Aunt  Charity,  the 
cook,  issued  from  the  kitchen  to  peer  surreptitiously 
through  the  dining-room  door  with  vast  delight. 

"  Dey  cert'n'y  do  take  ahtah  dat  fried  chick'n," 
she  said  to  old  Jereboam,  who,  with  a  half-dozen 
extras,  had  been  pressed  into  perspiring  tray-service. 
"  Dey  got  all  de  Mefodis'  preachahs  Ah  evah  see 
laid  in  de  shade  dis  day.  Hyuh  !  hyuh !  " 

"'Deed  dey  has!  Hyuh!  hyuh!"  echoed  Jere- 
boam huskily. 

The  Mason  yard,  an  hour  later,  was  an  active  en- 
campment of  rocking-chairs,  and  a  din  of  conversa- 
tion floated  out  over  the  pink  oleanders,  whose  tubs 
had  achieved  a  fresh  coat  of  bright  green  paint  for 
the  occasion.  Mrs.  Poly  Gifford  —  a  guest  of  the 
day  —  here  shone  resplendent. 

"  The  young  folks  are  counting  mightily  on  the 
dance  to-night,"  observed  Mrs.  Livy  Stowe  of 


\ 


TOURNAMENT  DAY  269 

Seven  Oaks.  "  Even  the  Buckner  girls  have  got 
new  ball  dresses." 

"  Improvident,  I  call  it,"  said  Mrs.  Gifford. 
"They  can't  afford  such  things,  with  Park  Hill 
mortgaged  up  to  the  roof  the  way  it  is." 

Mrs.  Mason's  soft  apologetic  alto  interposed. 
"  They're  sweet  girls,  and  we're  never  young  but 
once.  I  think  it  was  so  fine  of  Mr.  Valiant  to  offer 
to  give  the  ball.  I  hear  he's  motored  to  Charlottes- 
ville  three  or  four  times  for  fixings,  though  I  un- 
derstand he's  poor  enough  since  he  gave  up  his 
money  as  he  did.  What  a  princely  act  that  was !  " 

"  Ye-e-es,"  agreed  Mrs.  Gifford,  "  but  a  little  — 
what  shall  I  call  it?  —  precipitous!  If  I  were  mar- 
ried to  a  man  like  that  I  should  always  be  in  terror 
of  his  adopting  an  orphan  asylum  or  turning  Repub- 
lican or  something  equally  impossible." 

"  He's  good-looking  enough  for  most  girls  to  be 
willing  to  risk  it,"  returned  Mrs.  Stowe,  "  to  say 
nothing  of  a  widow  or  two  I  might  mention,"  she 
added  cryptically. 

"  I  believe  you ! "  said  Mrs.  Gifford  with  em- 
phasis. "  We  all  know  who  you  mean.  Why  any 
woman  can't  be  satisfied  with  having  had  one  hus- 
band, I  can't  see." 

The  other  pursed  her  lips.  "  I  know  some  women 
with  live  husbands,  for  that  matter,"  she  said,  "  who, 
if  the  truth  were  told,  aren't  either.  It's  lucky 


270      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

there's  no  marriage  in  heaven  or  there'd  be  a 
precious  mix-up  before  they  got  through  with  it !  " 

"  Well,"  Mrs.  Gifford  rejoined,  "  the  Bible  may 
say  there's  no  marriage  or  giving  in  marriage  in 
heaven,  but  if  I  see  Poly  there,  I'll  say  to  them, 
'  Look  here.  That's  mine,  and  all  you  women 
angels  keep  your  wings  off  him ! ' 

The  listening  phalanx  relaxed  in  smiles.  Pres- 
ently Mrs.  Mason  said : 

"  I  was  at  Miss  Mattie  Sue's  the  other  day.  Mr. 
Valiant  had  just  called  on  her.  She  was  tremend- 
ously pleased.  She  said  he  was  the  living  image  of 
his  father." 

"  Oh,  it  never  occurred  to  me,"  cried  Mrs.  Gifford, 
in  some  excitement,  "  that  she  might  be  able  to  guess 
who  the  woman  was  at  the  bottom  of  that  old  duel. 
But  Miss  Mattie  Sue  is  so  everlastingly  close- 
mouthed,"  she  added,  with  an  aggravated  sigh. 
"  She  never  lets  out  anything.  Why,  I've  been  try- 
ing for  years  to  find  out  how  old  she  is.  In  the 
winter  —  when  she  was  so  sick,  you  know  —  I  went 
to  see  her  one  day,  and  I  said :  '  Now,  Miss  Mattie 
Sue,  you  know  you're  pretty  sick.  Not  that  I  think 
you're  going  to  die,  but  one  never  knows.  And  if 
the  Lord  should  see  fit  to  call  you,  I  know  you  would 
want  everything  to  be  done  right.  I  was  think- 
ing,' I  said,  '  of  the  stone,  for  I  know  the  ladies 
of  the  church  would  want  to  do  something  nice. 
Now  don't  you  feel  like  giving  me  a  few  little  de- 


TOURNAMENT  DAY  271 

tails  —  the  date  you  were  born,  for  instance  ?  '  I 
thought  I'd  find  out  then,  but  I  didn't.  She  turned 
her  head  on  the  pillow  and  says  she,  *  It's  mighty 
thoughtful  of  you,  Mrs.  Gifford,  but  I  like  simplicity. 
Just  put  on  my  tombstone  "  Here  lies  Mattie  Sue 
Mabry.  Born  a  virgin,  died  a  virgin." 

The  doctor  shut  his  office  door  with  a  vicious 
slam  and  from  the  vantage  of  the  wire  window- 
screen  looked  sourly  across  the  beds  of  marigold 
and  nasturtium. 

"  I  reckon  if  Mrs.  Poly  Gifford  shut  her  mouth 
more  than  ten  minutes  hand-running,"  he  said 
malevolently,  "  the  top  of  her  head'd  fly  from  here 
to  Charlottesville.  What  on  earth  can  they  find 
to  gabble  about?  They've  been  at  it  since  ten 
o'clock!" 

The  major,  ensconced  with  a  cigar  in  the  easy 
chair  behind  him,  flourished  his  palm-leaf  fan  and 
smote  an  errant  fly.  He  was  in  gayest  plumage. 
His  fine  white  waistcoat  was  a  miracle,  his  spats  a 
pattern,  and  the  pink  in  his  button-hole  had  a  Beau 
Brummelish  air  which  many  a  youthful  gallant  was 
to  envy  him  ere  the  day  was  done. 

"  Speaking  of  Damory  Court,"  he  said  in  his 
big  voice.  "  The  dance  idea  was  a  happy  thought 
of  young  Valiant's.  I'll  be  surprised  if  he  doesn't 
do  it  to  the  queer's  taste." 

The  doctor  nodded.     "  This  place  can't  teach  him 


272      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

much  about  such  folderolings,  I  reckon.  He's  led 
more  cotillions  than  I've  got  hairs  on  my  head." 

"  I'd  hardly  limit  it  to  that,"  said  the  major, 
chortling  at  the  easy  thrust.  "  And  after  all,  even 
folderolings  have  their  use." 

"Who  said  they  hadn't?  If  people  choose  to 
make  whirling  dervishes  of  themselves,  they  at  least 
can  reflect  that  it's  better  for  their  livers  than  cane- 
bottom  chairs.  Though  that's  about  all  you  can 
say  in  favor  of  the  modern  ball." 

"  Pshaw!  "  said  the  major.  "  I  remember  a  time 
when  you  used  to  rig  out  in  a  claw-hammer  and 

"'  Dance  all  night  till  broad  daylight 

And  go  home  with  the  gyrls  in  the  morning,' 

with  the  bravest  of  us.     Used  to  like  it,  too." 

"  I  got  over  it  before  I  was  old  enough  to  make 
myself  a  butt  of  hilarity,"  the  doctor  retorted.  "  I 
see  by  the  papers  they've  invented  a  new  dance 
called  the  grizzly  bear.  I  believe  there's  another 
named  the  yip-kyoodle.  I  hope  you've  got  -'em 
down  pat  to  show  the  young  folks  to-night,  Bris- 
tow." 

The  major  got  up  with  some  irritation.  "  South- 
all,"  he  said,  "  sometimes  I'm  tempted  to  think 
your  remarks  verge  upon  the  personal.  You 
don't  have  to  watch  me  dance  if  you  don't  choose 
to." 

"  No,  thank  God,"  muttered  the  doctor.     "  I  pre- 


TOURNAMENT  DAY  275 

fer  to  remember  you  when  you  still  preserved  a 
trace  of  dignity  —  twenty  odd  years  ago." 

"  If  dignity  — "  the  major's  blood  was  rising  now, 
— "  consists  in  your  eternal  tasteless  bickerings,  I 
want  none  of  it.  What  on  earth  do  you  do  it  for? 
You  had  some  friends  once." 

"  Friends !  "  snapped  the  other,  "  the  fewer  I  have 
the  better!" 

The  major  clapped  on  his  straw  hat  angrily, 
strode  to  the  door,  and  opened  it.  But  on  the 
threshold  he  stopped,  and  presently  shut  it,  turned 
back  slowly  and  resumed  his  chair.  The  doctor  was 
relighting  his  cigar,  but  an  odd  furtive  look  had 
slipped  to  his  face,  and  the  hand  that  struck  the 
match  was  unsteady. 

For  a  time  both  sat  smoking,  at  first  in  silence, 
then  talking  in  a  desultory  way  on  indifferent  topics. 
Finally  the  major  rose  and  tossed  his  cigar  into 
the  empty  grate. 

"  I'll  be  off  now,"  he  said.  "  I  must  be  on  the 
field  before  the  others." 

As  he  went  down  the  steps  a  carriage,  drawn  by 
a  pair  of  dancing  grays,  plunged  past.  "  Who  are 
those  people  with  the  Chalmers,  I  wonder,"  said  the 
doctor.  "  They're  strangers  here." 

The  major  peered.  "  Oh,"  he  said,  over  his 
shoulder,  "  I  forgot  to  tell  you.  That's  Silas 
Fargo,  the  railroad  president  from  New  York,  and 
his  daughter  Katharine.  His  private  car's  down 


274      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

on  the  siding.  They're  at  the  judge's  —  he's  chief 
counsel  for  the  road  in  this  state.  They'll  be  at  the 
tournament,  I  reckon.  You'll  be  there,  won't 
you?" 

The  doctor  was  putting  some  phials  and  instru- 
ments into  a  worn  leather  bag.  "  No,"  he  said, 
shortly.  "  I'm  going  to  take  a  ten-mile  drive  —  to 
add  to  this  county's  population,  I  expect.  But  I'm 
coming  to  the  dance.  Promised  Valiant  I  would  in 
a  moment  of  temporary  aberration." 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

A   VIRGINIAN    RUNNYMEDE 

**  TUNE  in  Virginia  is  something  to  remember." 
J  To-day  the  master  of  Damory  Court  deemed 
this  a  true  saying.  For  the  air  was  like  wine,  and 
the  drifting  white  wings  of  cloud,  piled  above  the 
amethystine  ramparts  of  the  far  Blue  Ridge,  looked 
down  upon  a  violet  world  bound  in  green  and  silver. 
In  his  bedroom  Valiant  stood  looking  into  the 
depths  of  an  ancient  wardrobe.  Presently  he  took 
from  a  hook  a  suit  of  white  flannel  in  which  he 
arrayed  himself.  Over  his  soft  shirt  he  knotted  a 
pale  gray  scarf.  The  modish  white  suit  and  the 
rolling  Panama  threw  out  in  fine  contrast  the  keen 
sun-tanned  face  and  dark  brown  eyes. 

In  the  hall  below  he  looked  about  him  with  satis- 
faction. For  the  last  three  days  he  had  labored 
tirelessly  to  fit  the  place  for  the  evening's  event. 
The  parlor  now  showed  walls  rimmed  with  straight- 
back  chairs  and  the  grand  piano  —  long  ago  put 
in  order  —  had  been  relegated  to  the  library.  That 
instinct  for  the  artistic,  which  had  made  him  a 
last  resort  in  the  vexing  problems  of  club  entertain- 
ments, had  aided  him  in  the  Court's  adornment. 

275 


276      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

Thick  branches  of  holly,  axed  from  the  hollows  by 
Uncle  Jefferson,  lined  the  balustrade  of  the  stair- 
way, the  burnished  green  of  ivy  leaves  was  twined 
with  the  prisms  of  the  chandelier  in  the  big  yellow- 
hung  parlor,  and  bands  of  twisted  laurel  were 
festooned  along  the  upper  walls.  The  massed  green 
was  a  setting  for  a  prodigal  use  of  flowers.  Every- 
where wild  blossoms  showed  their  spreading  clus- 
ters, and  he  had  searched  every  corner  of  the  estate, 
even  climbing  the  ragged  forest  slope,  to  the  tawdry 
edge  of  Hell's  Half-Acre,  to  plunder  each  covert 
of  its  hidden  blooms. 

He  had  intended  at  first  to  use  only  the  wild 
flowers,  but  that  morning  Ranston  had  arrived  from 
Rosewood  with  a  load  of  red  roses  that  had  made 
him  gasp  with  delight.  Now  these  painted  the 
whole  a  splendid  riotous  crimson.  They  stood 
banked  in  windows  and  fireplaces.  Great  clumps 
nodded  from  shadowed  corners  and  a  veritable 
bower  of  them  waited  for  the  musicians  at  the  end 
of  the  hall.  Through  the  whole  house  wreathed 
the  sweet  rose-scent,  mingled  with  the  frailer  frag- 
rance of  the  wildings.  John  Valiant  drew  a  single 
great  red  beauty  from  its  brethren  and  fastened 
it  in  his  button-hole. 

Out  in  the  kitchens  Cassandra's  egg-beating 
clattered  like  a  watchman's  rattle,  while  Aunt 
Daphne  put  the  finishing  touches  to  an  array  of 
lighter  edibles  destined  to  grace  the  long  table  on 


A  VIRGINIAN  RUNNYMEDE         277 

che  rear  porch,  now  walled  in  with  snow-white 
muslin  and  hung  with  candle-lusters.  Under  the 
trees  Uncle  Jefferson  was  even  then  experimenting 
with  various  punch  compounds,  and  a  delicious 
aroma  of  vanilla  came  to  Valiant's  nostrils  together 
with  Aunt  Daphne's  wrathful  voice: 

"  Heah,  yo'  Greenie  Simms !     Whah  yo'  gwine  ?  " 

"  Ain'  gwine  nowhah.  Ah's  done  been  whah 
Ah's  gwine." 

"  Yo'  set  down  dat  o'ange  er  Ah'll  smack  yo' 
bardaciously  ovah !  Ef  yo'  steals,  what  gwineter  be- 
come ob  yo'  soul?  " 

"  Don'  know  nuffin'  'bout  mah  soul,"  responded 
the  ebony  materialist.  "  But  Ah  knows  Ah  got  er 
body,  'cause  Ah  buttons  et  up  e'vy  day,  en  Ah  lakes 
et  plump." 

'*  Yo'  go  back  en  wuk  fo'  yo'  quahtah  yankin'  on 
dat  ar  ice-cream  freezah,"  decreed  Aunt  Daphne  ex- 
asperatedly,  "  er  yo'  don'  git  er  smell  ter-night.  Yo' 
heah  dat ! " 

The  threat  proved  efficacious,  for  Greenie,  mut- 
tering sullenly  that  she  "  didn'  nebbah  feel  no  sky- 
lark in  de  ebenin',"  returned  to  her  labors. 

The  Red  Road,  as  Valiant's  car  passed,  was 
dotted  with  straggling  pedestrians :  humble  country 
folk  who  trudged  along  the  grassy  foot-path  with  no 
sullen  regard  for  the  swift  cars  and  comfortable 
carriages  that  left  them  behind;  sturdy  barefooted 


278      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

children  who  called  shrilly  after  him,  and  happy-go- 
lucky  negro  youths  clad  in  their  best  with  Sunday 
shoes  dangling  over  their  shoulders,  slouching  re- 
gardlessly  in  the  dust  —  all  bound  for  the  same 
Mecca,  which  presently  rose  before  him,  a  gateway 
of  painted  canvas  proclaiming  the  field  to  which 
it  opened  Runnymede. 

This  was  a  spacious  level  meadow  into  which  de- 
bouched the  ravine  on  whose  rim  he  had  stood  with 
Shirley  on  that  unforgettable  day.  But  its  stake- 
and-ridered  fence  enclosed  now  no  mere  stretch  of 
ill-kept  sward.  Busy  scythes,  rollers  and  grass-cut- 
ters from  the  Country  Club  had  smoothed  and 
shaven  a  rectangle  in  its  center  till  it  lay  like  a  carpet 
of  crushed  green  velvet,  set  in  an  expanse  of  life- 
everlasting  and  pale  budding  goldenrod. 

He  halted  his  car  at  the  end  of  the  field  and 
snapped  a  leash  in  the  bulldog's  collar.  "  I  hate 
to  do  it,  old  man,"  he  said  apologetically  to  Chum's 
reproachful  look,  "  but  I've  got  to.  There  are  to 
be  some  stunts,  and  in  such  occasions  you're  apt 
to  be  convinced  you're  the  main  one  of  the  con- 
testants, which  might  cause  a  mix-up.  Never  mind ; 
I'll  anchor  you  where  you  won't  miss  anything." 

With  the  excited  dog  tugging  before  him,-  he 
threaded  his  way  through  the  press  with  keen  ex- 
hilaration. This  was  not  a  crowd  like  that  of  a 
city;  rather  it  resembled  the  old-homestead  day  of 
some  unbelievably  populous  family,  at  reunion  with 


A  VIRGINIAN  RUNNY^EDE        279 

its  servants  and  retainers.  All  its  members  knew 
one  another  and  the  air  was  musical  with  badinage. 
Now  and  then  his  gloved  hand  touched  his  cap  at 
a  salutation.  He  was  conscious  of  swift  bird-like 
glances  from  pretty  girls.  Here  was  none  of  the 
rigid  straight-ahead  gaze  or  vacant  stare  of  the 
city  boulevard;  the  eyes  that  looked  at  him,  frankly 
curious  and  inquiring,  were  full  of  easy  open  com- 
radeship. There  was  about  both  men  and  women 
an  air  of  being  at  the  same  time  more  ceremonious 
and  more  casual  than  those  he  had  known.  Some 
of  the  girls  wore  gowns  and  hats  that  might  that 
morning  have  issued  from  the  Rue  de  la  Paix ;  others 
were  habited  in  cheap  materials.  But  about  the  lat- 
ter hung  no  benumbing  self-consciousness.  All  bore 
themselves  alike.  And  all  seemed  to  possess  musical 
voices,  graceful  movements  and  a  sense  of  quiet 
dignity.  He  was  beginning  to  realize  that  there 
might  really  exist  straitened  circumstances,  even 
actual  poverty,  which  yet  created  no  sort  of  social 
difference. 

Opposite  the  canvas-covered  grand  stand  sat 
twelve  small  mushroom  tents,  each  with  a  staff  and 
tiny  flag.  Midway  lines  of  flaxen  ropes  stretched 
between  rows  of  slender  peeled  saplings  from  whose 
tops  floated  fanged  streamers  of  vivid  bunting.  A 
pavilion  of  purple  cloth,  open  at  the  sides,  awaited 
the  committee,  and  near  the  center,  a  negro  band 
was  disposed  on  camp-stools,  the  brass  of  the 


28o      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

waiting  instruments  winking  in  the  sunlight.  The 
stand  was  a  confused  glow  of  color,  of  light  gauzy 
dresses,  of  young  girls  in  pastel  muslins  with 
flowers  in  their  belts,  picturesque  hats  and  slender 
articulate  hands  darting  in  vivacious  gestures  like 
white  swallows  —  the  gentry  from  the  "  big  houses." 
About  the  square  babbled  and  palpitated  the  crowd 
of  the  farm-wagon  and  carry-all;  and  at  the  lower 
end,  jostling,  laughing  and  skylarking  beyond  the 
barrier,  a  picturesque  block  of  negroes,  picked  out 
by  flashing  white  teeth,  red  bandannas  folded  above 
wrinkled  countenances  and  garish  knots  of  ribbon 
flaunting  above  the  pert  yellow  faces  of  a  younger 
mulatto  race. 

The  light  athletic  figure,  towed  by  the  white  bull- 
dog, drew  many  glances.  Valiant's  eyes,  however, 
as  they  swept  the  seats,  were  looking  for  but  one, 
and  at  first  vainly.  He  felt  a  quick  pang  of  disap- 
pointment. Perhaps  she  would  not  come !  Perhaps 
her  mother  was  still  ill.  Perhaps  —  but  then  sud- 
denly his  heart  beat  high,  for  he  saw  her  in  the 
lower  tier,  with  a  group  of  young  people.  He  could 
not  have  told  what  she  wore,  save  that  it  was  of 
soft  Murillo  blue  with  a  hat  whose  down-curved 
brim  was  wound  with  a  shaded  plume  of  the  same 
tint.  Her  mother  was  not  with  her.  She  was  not 
looking  his  way  as  he  passed  —  her  arms  at  the 
moment  being  held  out  in  an  adorable  gesture  to- 
ward a  little  child  in  a  smiling  matron's  lap  —  and 


A  VIRGINIAN  RUNNYMEDE         281 

but  a  single  glance  was  vouchsafed  him  before  the 
major  seized  upon  him  and  bore  him  to  the  purple 
pavilion,  for  he  was  one  of  the  committee.  N 

But  for  this  distraction,  he  might  have  seen,  en- 
tering the  stand  with  the  Chalmers  just  as  the  band 
struck  up  a  delirious  whirl  of  Dixie,  the  two 
strangers  whom  the  doctor  had  observed  an  hour 
before  as  they  whirled  by  the  Merry  weather  Mason 
house  behind  the  judge's  grays.  Silas  Fargo  might 
have  passed  in  any  gathering  for  the  unobtrusive 
city  man.  Katharine  was  noticeable  anywhere,  and 
to-day  her  tall  willowy  figure  in  its  champagne-color 
lingerie  gown  and  hat  garnished  with  bronze  and 
gold  thistles,  setting  in  relief  her  ivory  statuesque 
face,  drew  a  wave  of  whispered  comment  which 
left  a  sibilant  wake  behind  them.  The  party  made 
a  picturesque  group  as  they  now  disposed  them- 
selves, Katharine's  colorless  loveliness  contrasting 
with  the  eager  sparkle  of  pretty  Nancy  Chalmers 
and  the  gipsy-like  beauty  of  Betty  Page. 

"  You  call  it  a  tournament,  don't  you  ?  "  asked 
Katharine  of  the  judge. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied.  "  It's  a  kind  of  contest  in 
which  twelve  riders  compete  for  the  privilege  of 
naming  a  Queen  of  Beauty.  There's  a  ball  to- 
night, at  which  the  lucky  lady  is  crowned.  Those 
little  tents  are  where  the  noble  knights  don  their 
shining  armor.  See,  there  go  their  caparisoned 
chargers." 


282       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

A  file  of  negroes  was  approaching  the  tents,  each 
leading  a  horse  whose  saddle  and  bridle  were  dec- 
orated with  fringes  of  various  hues.  In  the  center 
of  the  roped  lists,  directly  in  front  of  the  stand, 
others  were  planting  upright  in  the  ground  a  tall 
pole  from  whose  top  projected  a  horizontal  arm 
like  a  slender  gallows.  From  this  was  suspended 
a  cord  at  whose  end  swung  a  tiny  object  that  whirled 
and  glittered  in  the  sun. 

The  judge  explained.  "  On  the  end  of  the  cord 
is  a  silver  ring,  at  which  the  knights  tilt  with  lances. 
Twelve  rings  are  used.  The  pike-points  are 
made  to  fit  them,  and  the  knight  who  carries  off 
the  greatest  number  of  the  twelve  is  the  victor. 
The  whole  thing  is  a  custom  as  ancient  as  Virginia 
—  a  relic,  of  course,  of  the  old  jousting  of  the 
feudal  ages.  The  ring  is  supposed  to  represent  the 
device  on  the  boss  of  the  shield,  at  which  the  lance- 
thrust  was  aimed." 

"  How  interesting !  "  exclaimed  Katharine,  and 
turning,  swept  the  stand  with  her  lorgnette.  "  I 
suppose  all  the  county's  F.  F.  Vs.  are  here,"  she  said 
laughingly  to  Nancy  Chalmers.  "  I've  often  won- 
dered, by  the  way,  what  became  of  the  Second 
Families  of  Virginia." 

"  Oh,  they've  mostly  emigrated  North,"  answered 
Nancy.  "  The  ones  that  are  left  are  all  ancient. 
There  are  families  here  that  don't  admit  they  ever 
began  at  all." 


A  VIRGINIAN  RUNNYMEDE        283 

Silas  Fargo  shook  his  stooped  shoulders  with 
laughter.  "Up  North,"  he  said  genially  "we've 
got  regular  factories  that  turn  out  ready-made 
family-trees  for  anybody  who  wants  to  roost  in 


one." 


Betty  Page  turned  her  piquant  brown  face  toward 
him  reflectively.  "  Ah  do  think  you  No'therners  are 
wonderful,"  she  said  in  her  languorous  Carolinian, 
"  at  being  just  what  you  want  to  be !  Ah  met  a 
No'thern  gyrl  once  at  White  Sulphur  Springs  who 
said  such  clever  things,  and  Ah  asked  her,  '  Plow  did 
you  ever  learn  to  talk  like  you  do  ? '  What  do  you 
reckon  the  gyrl  said  ?  She  said  she  had  to  be  clever 
because  her  nose  was  so  big.  She  tried  wearing 
tricky  little  hats  and  a  follow-me-in-the-twilight  ex- 
pression, but  it  made  her  seem  ridiculous,  so  she 
finally  thought  of  brains  and  epigrams,  and  took  to 
reading  Bernard  Shaw  and  Walter  Pater,  and  it 
worked  fine.  She  said  trouble  suited  her  profile, 
and  she'd  discovered  people  looked  twice  at  sad 
eyes,  so  she'd  cultivated  a  pensive  look  for  yeahs. 
Ah  think  that  was  mighty  bright !  Down  South 
we're  too  lazy  to  work  over  ourselves  that  way." 

And  now  over  the  fluttering  stand  and  the  crowd 
about  the  barriers,  a  stir  was  discernible.  Kath- 
arine looked  again  at  the  field.  "  Who  is  that 
splendid  big  old  man  giving  directions?  The  one 
who  looks  like  a  lion.  He's  coming  this  way  now." 


284      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"  That's  Major  Montague  Bristow,"  said  the 
judge.  "  He's  been  master  of  the  heralds  for  years. 
The  tournament  could  hardly  happen  without  the 
major." 

"  I'm  sure  I'd  like  him,"  she  answered.  "  What 
a  lovely  girl  he  is  talking  to !  " 

It  was  Shirley  who  had  beckoned  the  major  from 
the  lists.  She  was  leaning  over  the  railing.  "  Why 
has  Ridgeley  Pendleton  left?"  she  asked  in  a  low 
voice.  "  Isn't  he  one  of  the  twelve  ?  " 

"  He  was.  But  he's  ill.  He  wasn't  feeling  up 
to  it  when  he  came,  but  he  didn't  give  up  till  half 
an  hour  ago.  We'll  have  to  get  along  with  eleven 
knights." 

She  made  an  exclamation  of  dismay.  "  Poor 
Ridge !  And  what  a  pity !  There  have  never  been 
less  than  the  full  number.  It  will  spoil  the  royal 
quadrille  to-night,  too.  Why  doesn't  the  commit- 
tee choose  some  one  in  his  place  ?  " 

"  Too  late.     Besides,  he  would  have  no  costume." 

"  Surely  that's  not  so  important  as  filling  the 
Round  Table?" 

"  It's  too  bad.     But  I'm  afraid  it  can't  be  helped." 

She  bent  still  closer.  "  Listen.  Why  not  ask  Mr. 
Valiant?  He  is  our  host  to-night.  I'm  sure  he'd 
be  glad  to  help  out,  even  without  the  costume." 

"  Egad !  "  he  said,  pulling  his  imperial.  "  None 
of  us  had  thought  of  him.  He  could  ride  Pendle- 
ton's  mount,  of  course,"  He  reflected  a  moment. 


A  VIRGINIAN  RUNNYMEDE         285 

"I'll  do  it.  Its  exactly  the  right  thing.  You're 
a  clever  girl,  Shirley." 

He  hastily  crossed  the  field,  while  she  leaned  back, 
her  eyes  on  the  flanneled  figure  —  long  since  recog- 
nized—  under  the  purple  pavilion.  She  saw  the 
committee  put  their  heads  together  and  hurriedly  en- 
ter. 

In  the  moment's  wait,  Shirley's  gloved  fingers 
clasped  and  unclasped  somewhat  nervously.  The 
riders  had  been  chosen  long  before  John  Valiant's 
coming.  If  a  saddle,  however,  was  perforce  to  be 
vacant,  what  more  appropriate  than  that  he  should 
fill  it  ?  The  thought  had  come  to  her  instantly,  bred 
of  an  underlying  regret,  which  she  had  all  along 
cherished,  that  he  was  not  to  take  part.  But  be- 
neath this  was  a  deeper  passionate  wish  that  she 
did  not  attempt  to  analyze,  to  see  him  assume  his 
place  with  others  long  habituated  to  that  closed  cir- 
cle —  a  place  rightfully  his  by  reason  of  birth  and 
name  —  and  to  lighten  the  gloomy  shadow,  that 
must  rest  on  his  thoughts  of  his  father,  with  warmer 
sunnier  things.  She  heaved  a  secret  sigh  of  satis- 
faction as  the  white-clad  figure  rose  in  acquiescence. 

The  major  returned  to  the  grand  stand  and  held 
up  his  hand  for  silence. 

"  Our  gracious  Liege,"  he  proclaimed,  in  his  big 
vibrant  voice,  "  Queen  of  Beauty  yet  unknown, 
Lords,  Knights  and  Esquires,  Fair  Dames  and 
gentles  all !  Whereas  divers  noble  persons  have  en- 


286      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

terprized  and  taken  upon  them  to  hold  jousts  royal 
and  tourney,  you  are  hereby  acquainted  that  the 
lists  of  Runnymede  are  about  to  open  for  that 
achievement  of  arms  and  grand  and  noble  tourna- 
ment for  which  they  have  so  long  been  famed. 
But  an  hour  since  one  of  our  noble  knights,  prick- 
ing hither  to  tilt  for  his  lady,  was  beset  by  a 
grievous  malady.  However,  lest  our  jousting  lack 
the  royal  number,  a  new  champion  hath  at  this  last 
hour  been  found  to  fill  the  Table  Round,  who  of 
his  courtesy  doth  consent  to  ride  without  armor." 

A  buzz  ran  over  the  assemblage.  "  It  must  be 
Pendleton  who  has  defaulted,"  said  Judge  Chalmers. 
"  I  heard  this  morning  he  was  sick.  Who's  the  sub- 
stitute knight,  I  wonder?" 

At  the  moment  a  single  mounted  herald  before 
the  tents  blew  a  long  blast  on  a  silver  horn.  Their 
flaps  parted  and  eleven  knights  issued  to  mount  their 
steeds  and  draw  into  line  behind  him.  They  were 
brilliantly  decked  in  fleshlings  with  slashed  doublets 
and  plumed  chapeaus,  and  short  jeweled  cloaks 
drooped  from  their  shoulders.  Pages  handed  each 
a  long  lance  which  was  held  perpendicular,  the  butt 
resting  on  the  right  stirrup. 

"  Why,"  cried  Katharine,  "  it's  like  a  bit  out  of 
the  medieval  pageant  at  Earl's  Court!  Where  do 
you  get  the  costumes  ?  " 

"  Some  we  make,"  Judge  Chalmers  answered, 
"  but  a  few  are  the  real  thing  —  so  old  they  have 


A  VIRGINIAN  RUNNYMEDE         287 

to  be  patched  up  anew  each  year.  The  ancient 
lances  have  disappeared.  The  pikes  we  use  now 
were  found  in  '61,  hidden  ready  for  the  negro  in- 
surrection, when  John  Brown  should  give  the 
signal." 

Under  the  pavilion,  just  for  the  fraction  of  a 
second,  Valiant  hesitated.  Then  he  turned  swiftly 
to  the  twelfth  tent.  Its  flag-staff  bore  a  long 
streamer  of  deep  blood-red.  He  snatched  this  from 
its  place,  flung  it  about  his  waist  and  knotted  it  sash- 
wise.  He  drew  the  rose  from  his  lapel  and  thrust 
it  through  the  band  of  his  Panama,  leaped  to  the 
saddle  of  the  horse  the  major  had  beckoned,  and 
with  a  quick  thrust  of  his  heel,  swung  to  the  end 
of  the  stamping  line. 

The  field  and  grand  stand  had  seen  the  quick  de- 
cision, with  its  instant  action,  and  as  the  hoofs 
thudded  over  the  turf,  a  wave  of  hand-clapping  ran 
across  the  seats  like  a  silver  rain.  "  Neatly  done, 
upon  my  word!"  said  the  judge,  delighted. 
"  What  a  daring  idea !  Who  is  it  ?  Is  it  —  bless 
my  soul,  it  is !  " 

Katharine  Fargo  had  dropped  her  lorgnette  with 
an  exclamation.  She  stood  up,  her  wide  eyes  fixed 
on  that  figure  in  pure  white,  with  the  blood-red 
cordon  flaunting  across  his  horse's  flanks  and  the 
single  crimson  blossom  glowing  in  his  hat. 

"  The  White  Knight!  "  she  breathed.  "  Who  is 
he?" 


288      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

Judge  Chalmers  looked  round  in  sudden  illumina- 
tion. "  I  forgot  that  you  would  be  likely  to  know 
him,"  he  said.  "That  is  Mr.  John  Valiant  of 
Damory  Court." 


CHAFER  XXXIII 

THE   KNIGHT   OF   THE    CRIMSON    ROSE 

THE  row  of  horsemen  had  halted  in  a  curving 
line  before  the  grand  stand,  and  now  in  the 
silence  the  herald,  holding  a  parchment  scroll, 
spurred  before  each  rider  in  turn,  demanding  his 
title.  As  this  was  given  he  whirled  to  proclaim  it, 
accompanying  each  evolution  with  a  blast  on  his 
horn.  "  Knight  of  the  Golden  Spur,"  "  Knight  of 
Castlewood,"  "Lord  of  Brandon,"  "  Westover's 
Knight,"  "  Knight  of  the  Silver  Cross  " :  the  names, 
fanciful,  or  those  of  family  estates,  fell  on  John 
Valiant's  ear  with  a  pungent  flavor  of  medievalism. 
His  eyes,  full  of  the  swaying  crowd,  the  shift  and 
shimmer  of  light  and  color,  returned  again  and 
again  to  an  alluring  spot  of  blue  at  one  side,  which 
might  for  him  have  been  the  heart  of  the  whole 
festal  out-of-doors.  He  started  as  he  became  aware 
that  the  rider  next  him  had  answered  and  that  the 
herald  had  paused  before  him. 

"  Knight  of  the  Crimson  Rose !  "  It  sprang  to 
his  lips  without  forethought,  an  echo,  perhaps,  of 
the  improvised  sash  and  the  flower  in  his  hat-band, 
but  the  shout  of  the  herald  and  the  trumpet's  blare 

289 


290      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

seemed  to  make  the  words  fairly  bulge  with  in- 
evitability. And  through  this  struck  a  sudden  ap- 
palled feeling  that  he  had  really  spoken  Shirley's 
name,  and  that  every  one  had  heard.  He  could  not 
see  her  face,  and  clutched  his  lance  fiercely  to  over- 
come an  insane  desire  to  stoop  hideously  in  his  saddle 
and  peer  under  the  shading  hat-brim.  Lest  he 
should  do  this,  he  fastened  his  eyes  determinedly  on 
the  major,  who  now  proceeded  to  deliver  himself  of 
the  "  Charge  to  the  Knights." 

The  major  made  an  appealing  center  to  the  charm- 
ing picture  as  he  stood  on  the  green  turf,  "  the  glass 
of  fashion  and  the  mold  of  form,"  his  head  bare, 
his  shock  of  blond-gray  hair  thrown  back,  and  one 
hand  thrust  between  the  buttons  of  his  snowy  waist- 
coat. His  rich  bass  voice  rolled  out  to  the  farthest 
corner  of  the  field : 

"  Sir  Knights ! 

"  The  tournament  to  which  we  are  gathered  to- 
day is  to  us  traditional;  a  rite  of  antiquity  and  a 
monument  of  ancient  generations.  This  relic  of  the 
jousts  of  the  Field  of  the  Cloth-of-Gold  points  us 
back  to  an  era  of  knightly  deeds,  fidelity  to  sacred 
trust,  obligation  to  duty  and  loyalty  to  woman  — 
the  watchwords  of  true  knighthood. 

"  We  like  to  think  that  when  our  forefathers,  off- 
spring of  men  who  established  chivalry,  came  from 
over-seas,  they  brought  with  them  not  only  this  an- 
cient play,  but  the  precepts  it  symbolizes.  We  may 


KNIGHT  OF  THE  CRIMSON  ROSE      291 

be  proud,  indeed,  knowing  that  this  is  no  hollow 
ceremonial,  but  an  earnest  that  the  flower  of  knight- 
hood has  not  withered  in  the  world,  that  in  an  age 
when  the  greed  of  gold  was  never  so  dazzling,  the 
spirit  of  true  gallantry  has  not  faded  but  blooms 
luxuriant  in  the  sparkling  dews  of  the  heart  of  this 
commonwealth. 

"  Yours  is  no  bitter  ride  by  haunted  tarn  or 
through  enchanted  forest  —  no  arrowed  vigil  on 
beleagered  walls.  You  go  not  in  gleaming  steel  and 
fretted  mail  to  meet  the  bite  of  blade  and  crash 
of  battle-ax.  Yet  is  your  trial  one  of  honor  and 
glory.  I  charge  you  that  in  the  contest  there  be 
no  darkling  envy  for  the  victor,  but  only  true  com- 
radeship and  that  generosity  which  is  the  badge  of 
noble  minds. 

"  I  summon  you  to  bow  the  knee  loyally  before 
your  queen.  For  as  the  contest  typifies  life's  battle, 
so  shall  she  stand  for  you  as  the  type  of  womanhood, 
the  crown  of  knighthood.  The  bravest  thoughts  of 
chivalry  circle  about  her.  The  stars  of  heaven  only 
may  be  above  her  head,  the  glowworm  in  the  night- 
chill  grasses  the  only  fire  at  her  feet;  still  the  spot 
that  holds  her  is  richer  than  if  ceiled  with  cedar  and 
painted  with  vermilion,  and  sheds  a  light  far  for 
him  who  else  were  lampless. 

"  Most  Noble  Knights !  In  the  name  of  that  high 
tradition  which  this  day  preserves !  In  the  memory 
of  those  other  knights  who  practised  the  tourney 


292      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

in  its  old-time  glory!  In  the  sight  of  your  Queen 
of  Beauty!  I  charge  you,  Southern  gentlemen,  to 
joust  with  that  valor,  fairness  and  truth  which 
are  the  enduring  glories  of  the  knighthood  of  Vir- 
ginia!" 

Over  the  ringing  applause  Nancy  Chalmers  looked 
at  him  with  a  little  smile,  quizzical  yet  soft  "  Dear 
old  major!  "  she  whispered  to  Betty  Page.  "  How 
he  loves  the  center  of  the  stage !  And  he's  effective, 
too.  Thirty  years  ago,  father  says,  he  might  have 
been  anything  he  wanted  to  —  even  United  States 
Senator.  But  he  would  never  leave  the  state.  Not 
that  I  blame  him  for  that,"  she  added ;  "  I'd  rather 
be  a  church-mouse  in  Virginia  than  Croesus'  daugh- 
ter anywhere  else." 

The  twelve  horsemen  were  now  sitting  their 
restive  mounts  in  a  group  at  one  end  of  the  lists. 
Two  mounted  monitors  had  stationed  themselves  on 
either  side  of  the  rope-barrier ;  a  third  stood  behind 
the  upright  from  whose  arm  was  suspended  the 
silver  ring.  The  herald  blew  a  blast,  calling  the 
title  of  the  first  of  the  knights.  Instantly,  with 
lance  at  rest,  the  latter  galloped  at  full  speed  down 
the  lists.  There  was  a  sharp  musical  clash,  and  as 
he  dashed  on,  the  ring  flew  the  full  length  of  its 
tether  and  swung  back,  whirling  swiftly.  It  had 
been  a  close  thrust,  for  the  iron  pike-point  had 
smitten  its  rim.  A  cheer  went  up,  under  cover  of 


KNIGHT  OF  THE  CRIMSON  ROSE      293 

which  the  rider  looped  back  outside  the  lists  to  his 
former  position. 

In  an  upper  tier  of  the  stand  a  spectator  made  a 
cup  of  his  hands.  "The  Knight  of  the  Golden 
Spur  against  the  field/'  he  called.  "  What  odds?  " 

"  Five  to  one,  Spotteswood,"  a  voice  answered. 

"  Ten  dollars,"  announced  the  first. 

"  Good.'*  And  both  made  memorandum  on  their 
cuffs. 

A  second  time  the  trumpet  sounded,  and  the 
Knight  of  Castlewood  flashed  ingloriously  down  the 
roped  aisle  —  a  miss. 

Again  and  again  the  clear  note  rang  out  and  a 
mounted  figure  plunged  by,  and  presently,  in  a  burst 
of  cheering,  the  herald  proclaimed  "  The  Knight  of 
the  Black  Eagle  —  one!"  and  Chilly  Lusk,  in  old- 
rose  doublet  and  inky  plume  cantered  back  with  a 
silver  ring  upon  his  pike. 

The  hazards  in  the  stand  multiplied.  Now  it 
was  Westover's  Knight  against  him  of  the  Silver 
Cross;  now,  the  Lord  of  Brandon  to  win.  The 
gentlemen  wagered  coin  of  the  realm;  the  ladies 
gloves  and  chocolates.  One  pretty  girl,  amid  a  gale 
of  chaff,  staked  a  greyhound  puppy.  The  arena 
swam  in  a  lustrous  light,  and  the  greensward 
glistened  in  its  frame  of  white  and  dusky  spectators. 
In  the  sunshine  the  horses  —  every  one  of  them 
groomed  till  his  coat  shone  like  black,  gray  or  sorrel 


294      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

satin  —  curveted  and  whinnied,  restive  and  red- 
nostriled  under  the  tense  rein.  The  riders  sat  erect 
and  statuesque,  pikes  in  air,  cloaks  flapping  from 
their  shoulders,  waiting  the  call  that  sent  each  in 
turn  tilting  against  the  glittering  and  elusively 
breeze-swinging  silver  circlet. 

No  simple  thing,  approaching  leisurely  and  afoot, 
to  send  that  tapering  point  straight  to  the  tiny  mark. 
But  at  headlong  gallop,  astride  a  blooded  horse 
straining  to  take  the  bit,  a  deed  requiring  a  nice 
eye,  a  perfect  seat  and  an  unwavering  arm  and 
hand!  Those  knights  who  looped  back  with  their 
pikes  thus  braceleted  had  spent  long  hours  in  prac- 
tise and  each  rode  as  naturally  as  he  breathed;  yet 
more  than  once  a  horse  shied  in  mid-course  and  at 
the  too-eager  thrust  of  the  spur  bolted  through  the 
ropes.  Valiant  made  his  first  essay  —  and  missed 
—  with  the  blood  singing  in  his  ears.  The  ring 
flew  from  his  pike,  catching  him  a  swinging  blow 
on  the  temple  in  its  rebound,  but  he  scarcely  felt 
it.  As  he  cantered  back  he  heard  the  major's  bass 
pitting  him  against  the  field,  and  for  a  moment 
again  the  spot  of  blue  seemed  to  spread  over  all 
the  watching  stand. 

And  then,  suddenly,  stand  and  field  all  vanished. 
He  saw  only  the  long  level  rope-lined  lane  with  its 
twinkling  mid-air  point.  An  exhilaration  caught 
him  at  the  feel  of  the  splendid  horse-flesh  beneath 
him  —  that  sense  of  oneness  with  the  creature  he 


KNIGHT  OF  THE  CRIMSON  ROSE     295 

bestrode  which  the  instinctive  horseman  knows.  He 
lifted  his  lance  and  hefted  it,  seeking  its  absolute 
balance,  feeling  its  point  as  a  fencer  with  his  rapier. 
When  again  the  blood-red  sash  streamed  away  the 
herald's  cry,  "  Knight  of  the  Crimson  Rose  — 
One !  "  set  the  field  hand-clapping.  From  the  next 
joust  also,  Valiant  returned  with  the  gage  upon  his 
lance.  Two  had  gone  to  the  Champion  of  Castle- 
wood  and  two  to  scattering  riders.  When  Valiant 
won  his  fourth  the  grand  stand  thundered  with  ap- 
plause. 

Katherine  Fargo  was  watching  with  a  gaze  that 
held  a  curious  puzzle.  After  that  recognition  of 
the  White  Knight,  Judge  Chalmers  had  told  in  a  few 
words  the  story  of  Damory  Court,  its  ancient  his- 
tory, the  unhappy  duel  that  had  sent  its  owner  into 
a  Northern  exile,  and  the  son's  recent  coming.  It 
had  more  than  surprised  her.  Her  father's  appre- 
ciative chuckle  that  "  the  young  vagabond  seemed 
after  all  to  have  fallen  on  his  feet"  had  left  her 
strangely  silent.  She  was  undergoing  a  curious 
mental  bouleversement.  Valiant's  passionate  de- 
fense of  his  father  in  that  fierce  burst  of  anger  in 
the  court  room  had  at  first  startled  her  with  its 
sense  of  unsuspected  force.  Later,  however,  she 
had  come  to  think  it  theatric  and  overdrawn,  and 
she  had  heard  of  his  quixotic  surrender  of  his 
fortune  with  a  wonder  not  unmixed  with  an  almost 
pitying  scorn.  She  despised  eccentricity  as  much 


296      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

as  she  respected  wealth,  and  the  act  had  seemed  a 
ridiculous  impulse  or  a  silly  affectation  destined  to 
be  repented  long  and  bitterly  in  cold  blood.  So  she 
had  thought  of  him  since  his  evanishment  with  a 
regret  less  sharp  for  being  glozed  with  a  certain 
contempt. 

The  discovery  of  him  to-day  had  dissipated  this. 
She  had  an  unerring  sense  of  social  values  and  she 
made  no  error  in  her  estimate  of  the  ^eopl  by 
whom  she  was  now  surrounded.  The  recital  of 
the  Valiant  generations  the  size  of  the  estate,  the 
position  into  which  its  heir  had  stepped  by  very  rea- 
son of  being  who  he  was,  appealed  to  her  instinct 
and  imagination  and  respect  for  blood.  She  had  a 
sudden  conception  of  new  values,  beside  which 
money  counted  little.  The  last  of  a  line  more  an- 
cient than  the  state  itself,  master  of  a  homestead 
famous  throughout  its  borders,  John  Valiant  loomed 
larger  in  her  eyes  at  the  moment  than  ever  before. 

The  trumpet  again  pealed  its  silvery  proclamation. 
Judge  Chalmers  was  on  his  feet.  "  Fifty  to  ten  on 
the  Crimson  Rose/'  he  cried.  This  time,  however, 
there  were  no  takers.  He  called  again,  but  none 
heard  him;  the  last  tilts  were  too  absorbing. 

Where  had  John  Valiant  learned  that  trick  of 
the  loose  wrist  and  inflexible  thrust,  but  at  the  fen- 
cing club?  Where  that  subconscious  management 
of  the  rein,  that  nice  gage  of  speed  and  distance, 
but  on  the  polo  field  ?  The  old  sports  stood  him  now 


KNIGHT  OF  THE  CRIMSON  ROSE      297 

in  good  stead.  "  Why,  he  has  a  seat  like  a  cen- 
taur ! "  exclaimed  the  judge  —  praise  indeed  in  a 
community  where  riding  was  a  passion  and  horse- 
flesh a' fetish! 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  mourned  Nancy  Chalmers.  "  I've 
bet  six  pairs  of  gloves  on  Quint  Carter.  Never 
mind ;  if  it  has  to  be  anybody  else,  I'd  rather  it  were 
Mr.  Valiant.  It's  about  time  Damory  Court  got 
something  after  Rip-Van-Winkling  it  for  thirty 
years.  Besides,  he's  giving  us  the  dance,  and  I 
love  him  for  that !  Quint  still  has  a  chance,  though. 
If  he  takes  the  next  two,  and  Mr.  Valiant  misses  — " 

Katherine  looked  at  her  with  a  little  smile.  "  He 
won't  miss,"  she  said. 

She  had  seen  that  look  on  his  face  before  and 
read  it  aright.  John  Valiant  had  striven  in  many 
contests,  not  only  of  skill  but  of  strength  and  dar- 
ing, before  crowded  grand  stands.  But  never  in 
all  his  life  had  he  so  desired  to  pluck  the  prize. 
His  grip  was  tense  on  the  lance  as  the  yellow  doublet 
and  olive  plume  of  Castlewood  shot  away  for  a  last 
time  —  and  failed.  An  instant  later  the  Knight  of 
the  Crimson  Rose  flashed  down  the  lists  with  the 
last  ring  on  his  pike. 

And  the  tourney  was  won. 

In  the  shouting  and  hand-clapping  Valiant  took 
the  rose  from  his  hat-band  and  bound  it  with  a  shred 
of  his  sash  to  his  lance-point.  As  he  rode  slowly 
toward  the  massed  stand,  the  whole  field  was  so  still 


298      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

that  he  could  hear  the  hoofs  of  the  file  of  knights 
behind  him.  The  people  were  on  their  feet. 

The  mounted  herald  blew  his  blast.  "  By  the 
Majesties  of  St.  Michael  and  St.  George,"  he  pro- 
claimed, "  I  declare  the  Knight  of  the  Crimson 
Rose  the  victor  of  this  our  tourney,  and  do  charge 
him  now  to  choose  his  Queen  of  Beauty,  that  all 
may  do  her  homage !  " 

Shirley  saw  the  horse  coming  down  the  line,  its 
rider  bareheaded  now,  and  her  heart  began  to  race 
wildly.  Beyond  wanting  him  to  take  part,  she  had 
not  thought.  She  looked  about  her,  suddenly  dis- 
mayed. People  were  smiling  at  her  and  clapping 
their  hands.  From  the  other  end  of  the  stand  she 
saw  Nancy  Chalmers  throwing  her  a  kiss,  and  beside 
her  a  tall  pale  girl  in  champagne-color  staring 
through  a  jeweled  lorgnette. 

She  was  conscious  all  at  once  that  the  flanneled 
rider  was  very  close  .  .  .  that  his  pike-point,  with 
its  big  red  blossom,  was  stretching  up  to  her. 

With  the  rose  in  her  hand  she  curtsied  to  him, 
while  the  blurred  throng  cheered  itself  hoarse,  and 
the  band  struck  up  You  Great  Big  Beautiful  Doll, 
with  extraordinary  rapture,  to  the  tune  of  which  the 
noise  finally  subsided  to  a  battery  of  hilarious  con- 
gratulations which  left  her  flushed  and  a  little 
breathless.  Nancy  Chalmers  and  Betty  Page  had 
burst  upon  her  like  petticoated  whirlwinds  and  prcs- 


KNIGHT  OF  THE  CRIMSON  ROSE     299 

ently,  when  the  crowd  had  lessened,  the  judge  came 
to  introduce  his  visitor. 

"  Mr.  Fargo  and  his  daughter  are  our  guests  at 
Gladden  Hall/'  he  told  her.  "  They  are  old  friends 
of  Valiant's,  by  the  way;  they  knew  him  in  New 
York." 

"  Katharine's  lighting  her  incense  now,  I  guess," 
observed  Silas  Fargo.  "  See  there !  "  He  pointed 
across  the  stand,  where  stood  a  willowy  tan  figure, 
one  hand  beckoning  to  the  concourse  below,  where 
Valiant  stood,  the  center  of  a  shifting  group,  round 
which  the  white  bulldog,  mad  with  recovered 
liberty,  tore  in  eccentric  circles. 

As  they  looked,  she  called  softly,  "  John !  John !  " 

Shirley  saw  him  start  and  face  about,  then  come 
quickly  toward  her,  amazement  and  welcome  in  his 
eyes. 

As  Shirley  turned  away  a  little  later  with  the 
major,  that  whispering  voice  seemed  still  to  sound 
in  her  ears  — "  John !  John !  "  There  smote  her 
suddenly  the  thought  that  when  he  had  chosen  her 
his  Queen  of  Beauty,  he  had  not  seen  the  other — - 
had  not  known  she  was  there. 

A  few  moments  before  the  day  had  been  golden; 
she  went  home  through  a  landscape  that  somehow 
seemed  to  have  lost  its  brightest  glow. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

KATHARINE   DECIDES 

KATHARINE  left  the  field  of  Runnymede  with 
John  Valiant  in  the  dun-colored  motor.  She 
sat  in  the  driver's  seat  beside  him,  while  the  bulldog 
capered,  ecstatically  barking,  from  side  to  side  of 
the  rear  cushions.  Her  father  had  declined  the 
honor,  remarking  that  he  considered  a  professional 
chauffeur  a  sufficient  risk  of  his  valuable  life  and 
that  the  Chalmers'  grays  were  good  enough  for  him 
—  a  decision  which  did  not  wholly  displease  Katha- 
rine. 

The  car  was  not  the  smart  Panhard  in  which  she 
had  so  often  spun  down  the  avenue  or  along  the 
shell-roads  of  the  north  shore.  It  lacked  those  fin- 
de-siecle  appurtenances  which  marked  the  ne  plus 
ultra  of  its  kind,  as  her  observant  eye  recognized; 
but  it  ran  staunch  and  true.  The  powerful  hands 
that  gripped  the  steering-wheel  were  brown  with  sun 
and  wind,  and  the  handsome  face  above  it  had  a 
look  of  keenness  and  energy  she  had  never  surprised 
before.  They  passed  many  vehicles  and  there  were 
few  whose  occupants  did  not  greet  him.  In  fact,  as 

300 


KATHARINE  DECIDES  301 

he  presently  remarked,  it  was  a  saving  of  energy  to 
keep  his  hat  off ;  and  he  tossed  the  Panama  into  the 
rear  seat.  On  the  rim  of  the  village  a  group  raised 
a  cheer  to  which  he  nodded  laughingly,  and  farther 
on  a  little  old  lady  on  a  timid  vine-covered  porch 
beside  a  church,  waved  a  black-mitted  hand  to  him 
with  a  sweet  old-time  gesture.  Katharine  noted 
that  he  bowed  to  her  with  extra  care. 

"  That's  Miss  Mattie  Sue  Mabry,"  he  said,  "  the 
quaintest,  dearest  thing  you  ever  saw.  She  taught 
my  father  his  letters."  A  small  freckled-faced  girl 
was  swinging  on  the  gate.  "  You  really  must  know 
Rickey  Snyder !  "  he  said,  and  halted  the  car  at  the 
curb.  "  Rickey,"  he  called,  "  I  want  to  introduce 
you  to  Miss  Fargo." 

"  Howdy  do  ?  "  said  Rickey,  approaching  with  an 
ingratiating  bob  of  the  head.  "  I  saw  you  at  the 
tournament.  Is  it  true  that  you  can  ride  on  the 
train  wherever  you  want  to  without  ever  buying  any 
ticket?" 

Katharine  smiled  back.  "  I'm  not  sure  they'd  all 
take  me  for  nothing,"  she  said,  "  but  perhaps  a  few 
of  them  would." 

"That  must  be  grand,"  sighed  Rickey.  "I 
reckon  you've  seen  everything  in  the  world,  almost." 

"  No,  indeed.  I  never  saw  a  tournament  like 
this,  for  instance.  It  was  tremendously  exciting. 
Wasn't  it!" 

"  My  goodness  gracious,  yes !     Mr.   Valiant,  I 


302       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

most  cried  when  you  chose  Miss  Shirley  Queen  of 
Beauty,  I  was  that  glad!  She  was  a  lot  the  pret- 
tiest girl  there.  Though  I  like  your  looks  right 
much  too,  Miss  Fargo,"  she  added  tactfully. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Valiant! "  Rickey  called  after  them  as 
the  car  started.  "  Now  you're  at  Damory  Court, 
are  you  going  to  let  us  children  keep  on  playing  up 
at  the  Hemlocks  ?  " 

"  Well  I  should  think  so !  "  he  answered.  "  Play 
there  all  the  time,  if  you  like." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  said  Rickey,  radiant.  "  And 
there  won't  be  any  snakes  there  now,  for  you've 
cleared  all  the  underbrush  away." 

As  they  sped  on,  Katharine's  cheek  had  a  faintly 
heightened  color.  But,  "  What  a  deliciously  odd 
child !  "  she  laughed. 

"  She's  a  character,"  he  said.  "  She  worships 
the  ground  Miss  Dandridge  walks  on.  There's  a 
good  reason  for  it.  You  must  get  Miss  Chalmers  to 
tell  you  the  story." 

Where  the  Red  Road  stretched  level  before  them, 
he  threw  the  throttle  open  for  a  long  rush  through 
the  thymy-scented  air.  The  light,  late  afternoon 
breeze  drew  by  them,  sweeping  back  Katharine's 
graceful  sinuous  veil  and  spraying  them  with  odors 
of  clover  and  sunny  fruit.  They  passed  orchard 
clumps  bending  with  young  apples,  boundless  aisles 
of  green,  young-tasseled  corn  and  shadowy  groves 


KATHARINE  DECIDES  303 

that  smelled  of  fern  and  sassafras,  opening  out  into 
more  sunlighted  vistas  overarched  by  the  intense 
penetrable  blue  of  the  June  sky. 

John  Valiant  had  never  seemed  to  her  so  wholly 
good  to  see,  with  his  waving  hair  ruffling  in  their 
flight  and  the  westerning  sun  shining  redly  on  his 
face.  Midway  of  this  spurt  he  looked  at  her  to  say : 
"  Did  you  ever  know  a  more  beautiful  countryside? 
See  how  the  pink-and-yellow  of  those  grain  fields 
fades  into  the  purple  of  the  hills.  Very  few  paint- 
ers have  ever  captured  a  tint  like  that.  It's  like 
raspberries  crushed  in  curdled  milk." 

"  I've  quite  lost  my  heart  to  it  all,"  she  said,  her 
voice  jolting  with  the  speed  of  their  course.  "  It's 
a  perfect  pastoral  ...  so  different  from  our  ter- 
rific city  pace.  ...  Of  course  it  must  be  a  trifle  dull 
at  times  .  .  .  seeing  the  same  people  always  .  .  . 
and  without  the  theater  and  the  opera  and  the  whirl 
about  one  —  but  ...  the  kind  of  life  one  reads 
about  ...  in  the  novels  of  the  South,  you  know 
...  I  suppose  one  doesn't  realize  that  it  actually 
exists  until  one  comes  to  a  Southern  place  like  this. 
And  the  negro  servants!  How  odd  it  must  be  to 
have  a  white-headed  old  darky  in  a  brass-buttoned 
swallow-tail  for  a  butler!  So  picturesque!  At 
Judge  Chalmers,  I  have  a  feeling  all  the  time  that 
I'm  walking  through  a  stage  rehearsal." 

The  car  slackened  speed  as  it  slid  by  a  white- 


304      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

washed  cabin  at  whose  entrance  sat  a  dusky  gray- 
bearded  figure.  Valiant  pointed.  "  Do  you  see 
him?"  he  asked. 

"  I  see  a  very  ordinary  old  colored  man  sitting 
on  the  door-step,"  Katharine  replied. 

"  That's  Mad  Anthony,  our  local  Mother  Ship- 
ton.  He's  a  prophet  and  soothsayer.  Uncle  Jef- 
ferson —  that's  my  body-servant  —  insists  that  he 
foretold  my  coming  to  Damory  Court.  If  we  had 
more  time  you  could  have  your  fortune  told." 

"  How  thrilling !  "  she  commented  with  half- 
humorous  irony. 

He  pointed  to  a  great  white  house  set  in  a  grove 
of  trees.  "  That  is  Beechwood,"  he  told  her,  "  the 
Beverley  homestead.  Young  Beverley  was  the 
Knight  of  the  Silver  Cross.  A  fine  old  place,  isn't 
it  ?  It  was  burned  by  the  Indians  during  the  French 
and  Indian  War.  My  great-great-great-grandfather 
— "  He  broke  off.  "  But  then,  those  old  things 
won't  interest  you." 

"  They  interest  you  a  great  deal,  don't  they  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  admitted,  "  they  do.  You  see,  my  an- 
cestors are  such  new  acquaintances,  I  find  them  ab- 
sorbing. You  know  when  I  lived  in  New  York  — " 

"  Last  month." 

He  laughed  a  little  —  not  quite  the  laugh  she  had 
known  in  the  past.  "  Yes,  but  I  can  hardly  believe 


KATHARINE  DECIDES  305 

it;  I  seem  to  have  been  here  half  a  lifetime.  To 
think  that  a  month  ago  I  was  a  double-dyed  New 
Yorker." 

"  It's  been  a  strange  experience  for  you.  Don't 
you  feel  rather  Jekyl-and-Hydish  ?  " 

"  That's  a  terrible  compound !  "  he  laughed,  as  he 
swept  the  car  round  a  curve,  skilfully  evading  a 
bumping  wagon-load  of  farm-hands.  "  In  which 
capacity  am  I  Mr.  Hyde,  by  the  way  ?  " 

She  smiled  at  him  round  the  edge  of  her  blown 
veil.  "  Figures  of  speech  aren't  to  be  analyzed. 
You  are  Dr.  Jekyl  in  New  York,  anyway.  You 
read  what  the  papers  said?  No?  It's  just  as  well; 
it  would  have  been  likely  to  turn  your  head." 

"  Could  anything  be  as  likely  to  do  that  as  — 
this  ?  "  With  a  glance  he  indicated  her  presence  be- 
side him. 

She  made  him  a  mocking  bow.  "  Be  careful/' 
she  warned.  "  Speeches  like  that  smack  of  dis- 
loyalty to  your  queen.  What  a  pretty  girl  she  is! 
I  congratulated  you  on  your  prowess.  I  must  add 
my  congratulations  on  your  taste." 

He  returned  her  bow  of  a  moment  since. 

"  It  was  all  a  most  unique  thing,"  she  went  on. 
"  And  to-night  at  your  ball  I  shall  witness  the  coro- 
nation. I  can  hardly  wait  to  see  Damory  Court. 
Do  you  know,  in  all  these  years  I  never  suspected 
what  a  versatile  genius  you  were  ?  It's  too  wonder- 


306       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

ful  how  you  have  stepped  into  this  life  —  into  the 
people's  thoughts  and  feelings  —  as  you  have. 
When  you  come  back  to  New  York  — " 

He  looked  at  her,  oddly  she  thought.  "  Why 
should  I  go  back  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  Because  it's  your  natural  habitat. 
Isn't  it?" 

*  That's  the  word/'  he  said  smiling.  "  It  was  my 
habitat.  This  is  my  home." 

She  was  silent  a  moment  in  sheer  surprise.  She 
had  thought  of  this  Southern  essay  as  a  quickly 
passing  incident,  a  colorful  chapter  whose  page 
might  any  day  be  turned.  But  it  was  impossible 
to  mistake  his  meaning.  Clearly,  he  was  deeply  in- 
fatuated with  this  Arcadian  experience  and  had  no 
thought  at  present  but  to  continue  it  indefinitely. 

But  it  would  pass !  He  was  a  New  Yorker,  after 
all.  And  what  more  charming  than  to  have  an  old 
place  in  such  a  countryside  — •  a  position  ready-made 
at  one's  hand,  to  step  into  for  a  month  or  two  when 
ennui  made  the  old  haunts  tasteless  ?  It  was  worth 
some  cultivation.  One  must  anchor  somewhere. 
Virginia  was  not  so  far  from  the  center;  splendid 
estates  of  Northerners  dotted  even  the  Carolinas. 
Here  one  might  be  in  hand-touch  with  everything. 
And  it  was  no  small  thing  to  hold  one  of  the  oldest 
and  proudest  names  in  a  section  like  this.  One 
could  always  have  a  town-house  too  —  there  was 
Washington,  and  there  was  Europe.  .  .  . 


KATHARINE  DECIDES  307 

They  were  passing  the  entrance  of  a  cherry- 
bordered  lane,  and  without  taking  his  hands  from 
the  gear,  he  nodded  toward  the  low  broad-eaved 
dwelling  with  its  flowering  arbors  that  showed  in 
flashing  glimpses  of  brown  and  red  between  the 
intervening  trees.  "  The  palace  of  the  queen !  "  he 
said — "  Rosewood,  by  name." 

She  looked  in  some  curiosity.  Clearly,  if  not  a 
refuge  of  genteel  poverty,  neither  was  it  the  abode 
of  wealth;  so,  from  her  assured  rampart  of  the 
Fargo  millions,  Katharine  reflected  complacently. 
The  girl  was  a  local  favorite,  of  course  —  he  had 
been  tactful  as  to  that.  It  was  fortunate,  in  a  way, 
that  he  had  not  seen  her,  Katharine,  in  the  grand 
stand  until  afterward.  Feeling  toward  her  as  she 
believed  he  did,  with  his  absurd  directness,  he  would 
have  been  likely  to  drop  the  rose  in  her  lap,  never  re- 
flecting that,  the  tourney  being  a  local  function,  the 
choice  should  not  fall  upon  an  outlander.  That 
would  not  have  tended  to  increase  his  popularity  in 
the  countryside,  and  popularity  was  the  very  salt 
of  social  success.  So  Katharine  pondered,  her  mind, 
like  a  capable  general's,  running  somewhat  ahead  of 
the  moment. 

The  slowing  of  the  car  brought  her  back  to  the 
present,  and  she  looked  up  to  see  before  them  the 
great  gate  of  Gladden  Hall.  She  did  not  speak  till 
they  had  quite  stopped. 

Then,  as  her  hand  lay  in  his  for  farewell,  "  You 


3o8      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

are  right  in  your  decision,"  she  said  softly.  "  This 
is  your  place.  You  are  a  Valiant  of  Virginia.  I 
didn't  realize  it  before,  but  I  am  beginning  to  see  all 
it  means  to  you." 

Her  voice  held  a  lingering  indefinable  quality 
that  was  almost  sadness,  and  for  that  one  slender  in- 
stant, she  opened  on  him  the  unmasked  batteries  of 
her  glorious  gray  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

"  WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD  WAS  IN  FLOWER  " 

THE  Tournament  Ball  at  Damory  Court  that 
night  was  more  than  an  event.  The  old 
mansion  was  an  irresistible  magnet.  The  floor  of 
its  yellow  parlor  was  known  to  be  of  delectable  huge- 
ness. Its  gardens  were  a  legend.  The  whole  place, 
moreover,  was  steeped  in  the  very  odor  of  old  mys- 
tery and  new  romance.  Small  wonder  that  to  this 
particular  affair  the  elect  —  the  major  was  the  high 
custodian  of  the  rolls,  his  decisions  being  as  the 
laws  of  the  Medes  and  Persians  —  came  gaily  from 
the  farthest  county  line,  and  the  big  houses  of 
the  neighborhood  were  crammed  with  over-night 
guests. 

By  half  past  nine  o'clock  the  phalanx  of  chaperons 
decreed  by  old  custom  had  begun  to  arrive,  and  the 
great  iron  gate  at  the  foot  of  the  drive  —  erect  and 
rustless  now  —  saw  an  imposing  processional  of  car- 
riages. These  passed  up  a  slope  as  radiant  with  the 
fairy  light  of  paper  lanterns  as  a  Japanese  thorough- 
fare in  festival  season.  The  colored  bulbs  swung 
moon-like  from  tree  and  shrub,  painting  their  rain- 
bow lusters  on  grass  and  driveway.  Under  the 

309 


310      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

high  gray  columns  of  the  porch  and  into  the  wide 
door,  framed  in  its  small  leaded  panes  that  glowed 
with  the  merry  light  within,  poured  a  stream  of  love- 
liness :  in  carriage-wraps  of  light  tints,  collared  and 
edged  with  fur  or  eider,  or  wide-sleeved  mandarin 
coats  falling  back  from  dazzling  throats  and  arms, 
hair  swathed  with  chiffon  against  the  night  dews, 
and  gallantly  cavaliered  by  masculine  black  and 
white. 

These  from  their  tiring-rooms  overflowed  pres- 
ently, garbed  like  dreams,  to  make  obeisance  to  the 
dowagers  and  then  to  drift  through  flower-lined  cor- 
ridors, the  foam  on  recurrent  waves  of  discovery. 
Behind  the  rose-bower  in  the  hall,  which  shielded  a 
dozen  colored  musicians  —  violins,  cello,  guitars 
and  mandolins  —  came  premonitory  chirps  and 
shivers,  which  presently  wove  into  the  low  and 
dreamy  melody  of  Carry  me  back  to  old  Virginia. 
Around  the  walls  of  the  yellow  parlor,  chairs  stood 
two  deep,  occupied,  or  preempted  by  fan  or  gloves  or 
lacy  handkerchief.  The  floor,  newly  waxed, 
gleamed  in  the  candle-light  like  beaten  moonbeams. 
At  its  farther  end  was  a  low  dais  covered  by  a  thin 
Persian  prayer-rug,  where  a  single  great  tapestried 
chair  of  dull  gold  waited  throne-like,  flanked  on 
either  side  by  the  chaperons,  ladies  of  honor  to  the 
queen  to  come. 

Promptly  as  the  clock  in  the  hall  chimed  ten,  the 
music  merged  into  a  march.  Doors  on  opposite 


KNIGHTHOOD  IN  FLOWER         311 

sides  of  the  upper  hall  swung  wide  and  down  the 
broad  staircase  came,  with  slow  step,  a  stately  pro- 
cession: two  heralds  in  fawn-colored  doublets  with 
scroll  and  trumpets  wound  with  flowers,  behind  them 
the  Queen  of  Beauty,  her  finger-tips  resting  lightly 
m  the  hand  of  the  Knight  of  the  Crimson  Rose,  and 
these  followed  by  as  brave  a  concourse  of  lords  and 
ladies  as  ever  graced  castle-hall  in  the  gallant  days 
"  when  knighthood  was  in  flower." 

Shirley's  gown  was  of  pure  white:  her  arms 
were  swathed  in  tulle,  crossed  with  straps  of  seed- 
pearl,  over  which  hung  long  semi-flowing  sleeves  of 
satin,  and  from  her  shoulders  rose  a  stiff  pointed 
medieval  collar  of  Venetian  lace,  against  whose  pale 
traceries  her  bronze  hair  glowed  with  rosy  lights. 
The  edge  of  the  square-cut  corsage  was  powdered 
with  the  pearls  and  against  their  sheen  her  breast 
and  neck  had  the  soft  creamy  ivory  of  magnolia 
buds.  Her  straight  plain  train  of  satin,  knotted 
with  fresh  white  rose-buds  (Nancy  Chalmers  had 
labored  for  a  frantic  half-hour  in  the  dressing-room 
for  this  effect)  was  held  by  the  seven-year-old 
Byloe  twins,  in  beribboned  knickerbockers,  duly  im- 
pressed with  the  grandeur  of  their  privilege  and 
grimly  intent  on  acquitting  themselTes  with  glory. 

Shirley's  face  was  still  touched  with  the  surprise 
that  had  swept  it  as  Valiant  had  stepped  to  her 
side.  She  had  looked  to  see  him  in  the  conventional 
panoply  a  sober-sided  masculine  mode  decrees. 


3i2      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

What  she  had  beheld  was  a  figure  that  might  have 
stepped  out  of  an  Elizabethan  picture- frame.  He 
was  in  deep  purple  slashed  with  gold.  A  cloak  of 
thin  crimson  velvet  narrowly  edged  with  ermine 
hung  from  his  shoulders,  lined  with  tissue-like  cloth- 
of-gold.  From  the  rolling  brim  of  his  hat  swept  a 
curling  purple  plume.  He  wore  a  slender  dress- 
sword,  and  an  order  set  with  brilliants  sparkled  on 
his  breast. 

The  costume  had  been  one  he  had  worn  at  a 
fancy  ball  of  the  winter  before.  It  had  been  made 
from  a  painting  at  Windsor  of  one  of  the  Dukes  of 
Buckingham,  and  it  made  a  perfect  foil  for  Shirley's 
white. 

The  eleven  knights  of  the  tourney,  each  with  his 
chosen  lady,  if  less  splendid,  were  tricked  out  in 
sufficiently  gorgeous  attire.  The  Knight  of  Castle- 
wood  was  in  olive  velveteen  slashed  with  yellow, 
with  Nancy  Chalmers,  in  flowered  panniers  and 
beaded  pompadour,  on  his  arm.  The  Lord  of  Bran- 
don wore  black  and  silver,  and  Westover's  champion 
was  in  forest  green.  Many  an  ancient  brocade  had 
been  awakened  for  the  nonce  from  its  lavender 
bed,  and  ruffs  and  gold-braid  were  at  no  pre- 
mium. 

To  the  twanging  of  the  deft  black  fingers,  they 
passed  in  gorgeous  array  between  files  of  low-cut 
gowns  and  flower-like  faces  and  masculine  swallow- 
tails, to  the  yellow  parlor.  Once  there  the  music 


KNIGHTHOOD  IN  FLOWER         313 

ceased  with  a  splendid  crash,  the  eleven  knights  each 
dropped  upon  one  knee,  the  eleven  ladies-in-waiting 
curtsied  low,  and  Shirley,  seated  upon  the  dais, 
leaned  her  burnished  head  to  receive  the  crown. 
What  though  the  bauble  was  but  bristol-board,  its 
jeweled  chasing  but  tinsel  and  paste?  On  her  head 
it  glowed  and  trembled,  a  true  diadem.  As  Valiant 
set  the  glittering  thing  on  those  rich  and  wonderful 
coils,  the  music  of  her  presence  was  singing  a  swift 
melody  in  his  blood. 

His  coronation  address  held  no  such  flowery 
periods  as  would  have  rolled  from  the  major's  soul. 
He  had  chosen  a  single  paragraph  he  had  lighted 
on  in  an  old  book  in  the  library  —  a  history  of  the 
last  Crusade  in  French  black-letter.  He  had  trans- 
lated and  memorized  the  archaic  phrasing,  keeping 
the  quaint  feeling  of  the  original: 

"  These  noble  Knights  bow  in  your  presence,  fair 
lady,  as  their  Leige,  whom  they  know  as  even  in 
judgment,  as  dainty  in  fulfilling  these  our  acts  of 
arms,  and  do  recommend  their  all  unto  your  Good 
Grace  in  as  lowly  wise  as  they  can.  O  Queen,  in 
whom  the  whole  story  of  virtue  is  written  with  the 
language  of  beauty,  your  eyes,  which  have  been  only 
wont  to  discern  the  bowed  knees  of  kneeling  hearts 
and,  inwardly  turned,  found  always  the  heavenly 
solace  of  a  sweet  mind,  see  them,  ready  in  heart  and 
able  with  hands  not  only  to  assailing  but  to  pre- 
vailing." 


THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

A  hushed  rustle  of  applause  —  not  loud:  the 
merest  whisper  of  silken  feet  and  feathered  fans 
tapped  softly  —  testified  to  a  widespread  approba- 
tion. It  was  the  first  sight  many  there  had  had  of 
John  Valiant  and  in  both  looks  and  manner  be  fitted 
their  best  ideals.  True,  his  accent  had  not  that 
subtle  gloze,  that  consonantal  softness  and  intona- 
tion that  mark  the  Southron,  but  he  was  a  Southron 
for  all  that,  and  one  of  themselves. 

The  queen's  curtsey  was  the  signal  for  the  music, 
which  throbbed  suddenly  into  a  march,  and  she 
stepped  down  beside  him.  Couple  after  couple, 
knights  and  ladies,  ranged  behind  them,  till  the 
twenty-four  stood  ready  for  the  royal  quadrille. 
It  was  the  old-fashioned  lancers,  but  the  de- 
liberate strain  lent  the  familiar  measures  something 
of  the  stately  effect  of  the  minuet.  The  rhythmic 
waves  alternately  bore  Shirley  to  his  arms  and 
whisked  her  away,  for  fleeting  hand-touch  of  this  or 
that  demure  or  laughing  maid,  giving  him  glimpses 
of  the  seated  rows  by  the  walls,  of  flower  vistas,  of 
open  windows  beyond  which  peered  shining  black 
faces  delightedly  watching. 

Quadrilles  were  not  invented  as  aids  to  conversa- 
tion, and  John  Valiant's  and  Shirley's  was  neces- 
sarily limited.  "  The  decorations  are  simply  deli- 
cious !  "  she  said  as  they  faced  each  other  briefly. 
"  How  did  you  manage  it  ?  " 

"  Home  talent  with  a  vengeance      Uncle  Jeffer- 


KNIGHTHOOD  IN  FLOWER         315 

son  and  I  did  it  with  our  little  hatchets.  But  the 
roses  — " 

They  were  swooped  apart  and  Shirley  found 
herself  curtsying  to  Chilly  Lusk.  "  More  than 
queen ! "  he  said  under  his  breath.  "  I  had  my 
heart  set  on  naming  you  to-day.  I  reckon  I've  lost 
my  rabbit- foot ! " 

Opposite,  in  the  turn,  Betty  Page  had  slipped  her 
dainty  hand  into  John  Valiant's.  "  Ah  haven't  seen 
such  a  lovely  dance  for  yeahs! "  she  sighed.  "  Isn't 
Shirley  too  sweet?  If  Ah  had  hair  like  hers,  Ah 
wouldn't  speak  to  a  soul  on  earth !  " 

The  exigencies  of  the  figure  gave  no  space  for 
answer,  and  presently,  after  certain  labyrinthine  evo- 
lutions, Shirley's  eyes  were  gazing  into  his  again. 
"  How  adorably  you  look !  "  he  whispered,  as  he 
bowed  over  her  hand.  "  How  does  it  feel  to  be  a 
queen?  " 

"  This  little  head  was  never  made  to  wear  a 
crown,"  she  laughed.  "  Queens  should  be  regal. 
Miss  Fargo  would  have  — " 

The  music  swept  the  rest  away,  but  not  the  look 
of  blinding  reproach  he  gave  her  that  made  her  heart 
throb  wildly  as  she  glided  on. 

The  last  note  of  the  quadrille  slipped  into  a  waltz 
dreamily  slow,  and  Valiant  put  his  arm  about 
Shirley  and  they  floated  away.  Once  before,  in  the 
moonlighted  garden  at  Rosewood,  she  had  lain  in 


3i6      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

his  arms  for  one  brief  instant ;  then  she  had  seemed 
like  some  trapped  wood-thing  resisting.  Now,  her 
slender  body  swaying  to  his  every  motion,  she  was 
another  creature.  Under  the  drooping  tawny  hair 
her  face  was  almost  as  pale  as  the  white  satin  of 
her  gown ;  her  lips  were  parted,  and  as  they  moved, 
he  could  feel  her  heart  rise  and  fall  to  her  languor- 
ous breath. 

There  was  no  speech  between  them ;  for  those  few 
golden  moments  all  else  vanished  utterly,  and  he 
guided  by  instinct,  as  oblivious  to  the  floor-full  as 
if  he  were  drifting  through  some  enchanted  ether, 
holding  to  his  breast  the  incarnation  of  all  loveli- 
ness, a  thing  of  as  frail  enchantment  as  the  glow 
of  stars  upon  snow,  yet  for  him  always  the  one  di- 
vine vision! 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

BY  THE  SUN-DIAL 

EYES  arched  with  fan-shielded  whispers,  and 
fair  faces,  foreshortened  as  they  turned  back 
over  powder-white  shoulders,  followed  their  swal- 
low-like movement.  From  an  ever-widening  circle 
of  masculine  devotees  Katharine  Fargo  watched 
them  with  a  smile  that  cloaked  an  increasing  and  un- 
welcome question. 

Katharine  had  never  looked  more  handsome;  a 
critical  survey  of  her  mirror  at  Gladden  Hall  had 
assured  her  of  that.  Never  had  her  poise  been  more 
superb,  her  toilet  more  enrapturing.  She  was  ex- 
quisitely gowned  in  rose-colored  mousseline-de-soie, 
embroidered  in  tiny  brilliants  laid  on  in  Greek  pat- 
terns. From  her  neck,  in  a  single  splendid  loop  of 
iridescence  against  the  rosy  mist,  depended  those 
fabulous  pearls — "the  kind  you  simply  can't  be- 
lieve/' as  Betty  Page  confided  to  her  partner  —  on 
whose  newspaper  reproduction  (actual  diameter) 
metropolitan  shop-girls  had  been  wont  to  gaze  with 
glistening  eyes ;  and  within  their  milky  circlet,  on  her 
rounded  breast,  trembled  three  pale  gold-veined 
orchids. 

317 


3i8      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

Watching  that  quadrille  through  her  drooping 
emerald-tinted  eyes,  she  had  received  a  sudden  en- 
lightening impression  of  Shirley's  flawless  beauty. 
At  the  tournament  her  fleeting  glimpse  had  ad- 
judged the  other  merely  sweetly  pretty.  The 
Chalmers'  surrey  had  stopped  en  route  for  Shirley, 
but  in  her  wraps  and  veil  she  had  then  been  all  but 
invisible.  This  had  beea  Katharine's  first  adequate 
view,  and  the  sight  of  her  radiant  charm  had  the 
effect  almost  of  a  blow. 

For  Katharine,  be  it  said,  had  wholly  surrendered 
to  the  old,  yet  new,  attraction  that  had  swept  her  on 
the  tourney  field.  This  feeling  was  no  less  cerebral 
and  intellectual  than  it  had  been :  she  was  no  Galatea 
waiting  her  Pygmalion.  But  it  was  strong  for  all 
that.  And  what  had  lain  always  in  the  back  of  her 
mind  as  a  half- formed  intention,  had  become  a  self- 
admitted  purpose  during  the  motor  ride.  So  as  she 
watched  them  in  the  waltz,  seasoned  artificialist  as 
she  was,  Katharine  for  a  breath  had  had  need  of  all 
her  address  to  keep  the  ball  of  conversation 
sparklingly  a-roll.  Her  natural  assurance,  however, 
came  quickly  to  her  aid.  She  had  been  an  ac- 
knowledged beauty  too  many  seasons  —  had  known 
John  Valiant,  or  believed  she  had,  too  long  and  too 
well  —  to  allow  the  swift  keen  edge  of  trepidation 
that  had  touched  her  to  cool  into  prescience. 

In  another  moment  the  waltz  fainted  out,  to  be 
succeeded  by  a  deux-temps,  and  presently  the  host, 


BY  THE  SUN-DIAL  319 

in  his  crimson  cloak,  was  doffing  his  plumed  hat 
before  her.  Circling  the  polished  floor  in  the  maze, 
there  was  something  gratefully  like  former  days  in 
the  assured  touch,  the  true  and  ready  guidance.  The 
intrusive  question  faded.  He  was  the  John  Valiant 
she  had  always  known,  of  flashing  repartee  and 
graceful  compliment,  yet  with  a  touch  of  dignity,  too 
—  as  befitted  the  lord  of  a  manor  —  which  sat  well 
upon  him.  After  a  decorous  dozen  of  rounds,  she 
took  his  arm  and  allowed  her  perfect  figure  to  be 
conducted  through  the  various  rooms  of  the  ground 
floor,  chatting  in  quite  the  old-time  way,  till  a  new 
gallant  claimed  her. 

The  mellow  strings  made  on  their  merry  tune, 
and  at  length  the  Washington  Post  marched  all 
in  flushed  unity  of  purpose  to  the  great  muslin- 
walled  porch  with  its  array  of  tables  groaning  under 
viands  concocted  by  Aunt  Daphne  for  the  delectation 
of  the  palate-weary:  layer-cakes,  furry-brown  with 
chocolate,  or  saffron  with  orange  icing;  fruit-cake 
richer  than  an  Indian  begum;  angel-cake  as  white 
(as  the  major  was  to  remark)  as  innocence  and  al- 
most as  sweet  as  the  lady  upon  whom  he  pressed  it 
at  the  moment;  yellow  jumbles,  kisses  that  crumbled 
at  a  touch,  and  all  nameless  toothsome  inventions 
for  which  new-laid  eggs  are  beaten  and  golden  cit- 
ron sliced. 

And  then  once  more  the  waltz-strain  supervened 
and  in  the  yellow  parlor  joy  was  again  unconfined. 


320      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

Among  the  masculine  contingent,  perhaps,  the  same 
catholicity  of  age  no  longer  prevailed,  certain  of 
the  elders  showing  an  inclination  toward  one  end  of 
the  front  porch,  now  hazing  with  the  fragrance  of 
Havanas.  But  the  dowagers'  fans  plied  on,  the 
rose-corners  echoed  their  light  laughter  and  the 
couples  footed  it  as  though  midnight  was  yet  un- 
reached  and  dawn  as  far  afield  as  Judgment  Day. 

Again  Valiant  claimed  Katharine  and  they  glided 
off  on  The  Beautiful  Blue  Danube.  Her  paleness 
now  had  a  tinge  of  color  but  nevertheless  he  thought 
she  drooped.  "  You  are  tired,"  he  said,  "  shan't  we 
sit  it  out  ?  " 

"Oh,  do  you  mind?"  she  responded  gratefully. 
"  It  has  been  a  fairly  strenuous  day,  hasn't  it !  " 

He  guided  her  to  a  corridor,  where  branches  of 
rhododendron  screened  an  alcove  of  settees  and  se- 
ductive cushions.  Here,  her  weariness  seemed  put 
to  rout.  There  was  no  drooping  of  fringed  lids,  no 
disconcerting  silences;  she  chatted  with  ease  and 
piquancy. 

"  It's  like  a  fairy  tale,"  she  said  at  length 
dreamily, — "  this  wonderful  life.  To  step  into  it 
from  New  York  is  like  coming  out  of  a  hot-house 
into  the  spring  out-of-doors!  It  makes  our  city 
existence  seem  so  sordidly  artificial.  You  have 
chosen  right." 

"  I  know  it.     And  yet  two  months  ago  a  life  a 


BY  THE  SUN-DIAL  321 

hundred  miles  from  the  avenue  would  have  seemed 
a  sad  and  sandy  Sahara.  I  know  better  now." 

"  I  have  been  listening  to  paeans  all  the  evening," 
she  said.  "  And  you  deserve  them.  It's  a  fine  big 
thing  you  are  attempting  —  the  restoring  of  this  old 
estate.  And  I  know  you  have  even  bigger  plans, 
too." 

He  nodded,  suddenly  serious  and  thoughtful. 
"  There's  a  lot  I'd  like  to  do.  It's  rot  only  the  house 
and  grounds.  There  are  .  .  .  other  things.  For 
instance,  back  on  the  mountain  —  on  my  own  land 
—  is  a  settlement  they  call  Hell's-Half-Acre.  Prob- 
ably it  has  well  earned  the  name.  It's  a  wretched 
collection  of  hovels  and  surly  men  and  drabs  of 
women  and  unkempt  children,  the  poorest  of  poor- 
whites.  Not  one  of  them  can  read  or  write,  and 
they  live  like  animals.  If  I'm  ever  able,  I  mean 
to  put  a  manual-training  school  up  there.  And 
then—" 

He  ended  with  a  half  laugh,  suddenly  conscious 
that  he  was  talking  in  a  language  she  would  scarcely 
understand  —  in  fact,  in  a  tongue  new  to  himself. 
But  there  was  no  smile  on  her  lips  and  her  ex- 
traordinary eyes  —  cool  gray,  shot  through  with 
emerald  —  were  looking  into  his  with  a  frankness 
and  sympathy  he  would  not  have  guessed  lay  be- 
neath her  glacial  placidity. 

To  Katharine,  indeed,  it  made  little  difference 


322      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

what  philanthropic  fads  the  man  she  had  chosen 
might  affect  as  regarded  his  tenantry.  Ambitions 
like  these  had  a  manorial  flavor  that  did  not  dis- 
please her.  And  the  Fargo  millions  would  bear 
much  harmless  hammering.  A  change,  subtle  and 
incommunicable,  passed  over  her. 

"  I  shall  think  of  you,"  she  sighed,  "  as  working 
on  in  this  splendid  program.  For  it  is  splendid. 
But  New  York  will  miss  you,  John." 

"  Ah,  no.  I've  no  delusions  on  that  score.  I 
dare  say  Fm  almost  forgotten  there  already.  Here 
I  have  a  place/' 

Her  head,  leaned  back  against  the  cushion,  turned 
toward  him,  the  pale  orchids  trembling  on  her  bosom 
— •  she  was  so  near  that  he  could  feel  her  breath  on 
his  cheek.  A  new  waltz  had  begun  to  sigh  its 
languorous  measures. 

"  Place  ?  "  she  queried.  "  Do  you  think  you  had 
no  place  there  ?  Is  it  possible  that  you  do  not  under- 
stand that  your  going  has  left  — a  void?  " 

He  looked  at  her  suddenly,  and  her  eyes  fell.  No 
sophisticated  blushing  this,  though  it  was  by  such 
effective  employment  of  her  charms  that  her  won- 
derful body  and  pliant  mind  had  been  drilled  and 
fashioned  from  her  babyhood.  Katharine  at  the 
moment  was  as  near  the  luxury  of  real  embarrass- 
ment as  she  had  ever  been  in  her  life. 

Before  he  answered,  however,  the  big  form  of 
Major  Bristow  appeared,  looking  about  him. 


BY  THE  SUN-DIAL  323 

"It  has  —  left  a  void,"  she  said,  her  eyes  still 
downcast,  her  voice  just  low  enough,  " — for 
me." 

The  major  pounced  upon  them  at  this  juncture, 
feelingly  accusing  John  of  the  nefarious  design  of 
robbing  the  assemblage  of  its  bright  and  particular 
star.  When  Katharine  put  her  hand  in  her  cava- 
lier's arm,  her  eyes  were  dewy  under  their  long  shad- 
ing lashes  and  her  fine  lips  ever  so  little  tremulous. 
It  had  been  her  best  available  moment,  and  she  had 
used  it. 

As  she  moved  away,  her  faint  color  slightly  height- 
ened, she  was  glad  of  the  interruption.  It  was  bet- 
ter as  it  was.  When  John  Valiant  came  to  her 
again.  .  .  . 

But  to  him,  as  he  stood  watching  her  move  lightly 
from  him,  there  was  vouchsafed  illumination.  It 
came  to  him  suddenly  that  that  placidity  and  hauteur 
which  he  had  so  admired  in  the  old  days  were  no 
mask  for  fires  within.  The  exquisite  husk  was  the 
real  Katharine.  Hers  was  the  loveliness  of  some 
tall  white  lily  cut  in  marble,  splendid  but  chill.  And 
with  the  thought,  between  him  and  her  there  swept 
through  the  shimmering  candle-lighted  air  a  breath 
of  wet  rose- fragrance  like  an  impalpable  cloud,  and 
set  in  the  midst  of  it  a  misty  star-tinted  gown 
sprayed  with  lilies-of-the-valley,  and  above  it  a  girl's 
face  clear  and  vivid,  her  deep  shadow-blue  eyes 
fixed  on  his. 


324      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

The  music  of  a  two-step  was  languishing  when,  a 
little  later,  Valiant  and  Shirley  strolled  down  be- 
tween the  garden  box-hedges,  cypress-shaped  and 
lifting  spire-like  toward  a  sky  which  bent,  a  silent 
canopy  of  mauve  and  purplish  blue.  The  moon 
drowsed  between  the  trees  like  a  great  yellow  moth, 
and  the  shadows  of  the  branches  lay  on  the  ground 
like  sharp  bluish  etchings  on  light  green  paper.  Be- 
hind them  Damory  Court  lay  a  nest  of  woven  music 
and  laughter.  The  long  white-muslined  porch  shim- 
mered goldenly,  and  beside  it  under  the  lanterns  dal- 
lied a  flirtatious  couple  or  two,  ghost-like  in  the 
shadows. 

Peace  brooded  over  all,  a  vast  sweet  silence  creep- 
ing through  the  trees  —  only  here  and  there  the 
twitter  of  a  waking  bird  —  and  around  them  was 
the  glimmer  of  tall  flowers  standing  like  pensive 
moon-worshipers  in  an  ecstasy  of  prayerless  bloom. 

"  Come,"  he  said.  "  Let  me  take  you  to  see  the 
sun-dial  now." 

The  tangle  had  been  cut  away  and  a  narrow 
gravel-path  led  through  the  pruned  creepers.  She 
made  an  exclamation  of  delight.  The  onyx-pil- 
lar stood  in  an  oasis  of  white  —  moonflowers,  white 
dahlias,  mignonette  and  narcissus;  bars  of  late 
lilies-of-the-valley  beyond  these,  bordered  with 
Arum-lilies,  white  clematis,  iris  and  bridal-wrreath, 
shading  out  into  tender  paler  hues  that  ringed  the 
spotless  purity  like  dawning  passion. 


BY  THE  SUN-DIAL  325 

r~ 

"  White  for  happiness,"  he  quoted.  "  You  said 
that  when  you  brought  me  here  —  the  day  we 
planted  the  ramblers.  Do  you  remember  what  I 
said?  That  some  day,  perhaps,  I  should  love  this 
spot  the  best  of  all  at  Damory  Court."  He  was 
silent  a  moment,  tracing  with  his  finger  the  motto  on 
the  dial's  rim.  "  When  I  was  very  little,"  he  went 
on, — "  hardly  more  than  three  years  old,  I  think, — 
my  father  and  I  had  a  play,  in  which  we  lived  in  a 
great  mansion  like  this.  It  was  called  Wishing- 
House,  and  it  was  in  the  middle  of  the  Never-Never 
Land  —  a  sort  of  beautiful  fairy  country  in  which 
everything  happened  right.  I  know  now  that  the 
Never-Never  Land  was  Virginia,  and  that  Wishing- 
House  was  Damory  Court  No  wonder  my  father 
loved  it !  No  wonder  his  memory  turned  back  to  it 
always !  I've  wanted  to  make  it  as  it  was  when  he 
lived  here.  And  I  want  the  old  dial  to  count  happy 
hours  for  me/'' 

Something  had  crept  into-  his  tone  that  struck  her 
with  a  strange  sweet  terror  and  tumult  of  mind. 
The  hand  that  clutched  her  skirts  about  her  knees 
had  begun  to  tremble  and  she  caught  the  other  hand 
to  her  cheek  in  a  vague  hesitant  gesture.  The 
moonflowers  seemed  to  be  great  round  eyes  staring 
up  at  her. 

"  Shirley  — "  he  said,  and  now  his  voice  was 
shaken  with  longing  — "  will  you  mak«  my  happi- 
ness for  me  ?  " 


326      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

She  was  standing  perfectly  still  against  the  sun- 
dial, both  hands,  laced  together,  against  her  breast, 
her  eyes  on  his  with  a  strange  startled  look.  Ove-r 
the  hush  of  the  garden  now,  like  the  very  soul  of  the 
passionate  night,  throbbed  the  haunting  barcarole  of 
Tales  of  Hoffmann: 

"  Night  of  stars  and  night  of  love — " 

an  inarticulate  echo  of  his  longing.  He  took  a 
step  toward  her,  and  she  turned  like  one  in  sudden 
terror  seeking  a  way  of  escape.  But  he  caught  her 
close  in  his  arms. 

"  I  love  you ! "  he  said.  "  Hear  it  now  in  my 
bride's  garden  that  I've  made  for  you !  I  love  you, 
I  love  you !  " 

For  one  instant  she  struggled.  Then,  slowly,  her 
eyes  turned  to  his,  the  sweet  lips  trembling,  and 
something  dawning  deep  in  the  dewy  blue  that  turned 
all  his  leaping  blood  to  quicksilver.  "  My  darling !  " 
he  breathed,  and  their  lips  met. 

In  that  delirious  moment  both  had  the  sense  of 
divine  completion  that  comes  only  with  love  re- 
turned. For  him  there  was  but  the  woman  in  his 
arms,  the  one  woman  created  for  him  since  the 
foundation  of  the  world.  It  was  Kismet.  For 
this  he  had  come  to  Virginia.  For  this  fate 
had  turned  and  twisted  a  thousand  ways.  Through 
the  riot  of  his  senses,  like  a  silver  blaze,  ran  the 
legend  of  the  calendar :  "  Every  man  carries  his  fate 


BY  THE  SUN-DIAL  327 

upon  a  riband  about  his  neck."  For  her,  something 
seemed  to  pass  from  her  soul  with  that  kiss,  some 
deep  irrevocable  thing,  shy  but  fiercely  strong,  that 
had  sprung  to  him  at  that  lip-contact  as  steel  to 
magnet.  The  foliage  about  them  flared  up  in  green 
light  and  the  ground  under  her  feet  rose  and  fell 
like  deep  sea-waves. 

She  lifted  her  face  to  him.  It  was  deathly  pale, 
but  the  light  that  burned  on  it  was  lit  from  the 
whitest  altar-fires  of  Southern  girlhood.  "  Six 
weeks  ago,"  she  whispered,  "  you  had  never  seen 
me!" 

He  held  her  crushed  to  him.  She  could  feel  his 
heart  thudding  madly.  "  I've  always  known  you," 
he  said.  "  I've  seen  you  a  thousand  times.  I  saw 
you  coming  to  meet  me  down  a  cherry-blossomed 
lane  in  Kyoto.  I've  seen  your  eyes  peering  from 
behind  a  veil  in  India.  I've  heard  your  voice  call- 
ing to  me,  through  the  padding  camels'  feet,  from 
the  desert  mirages.  You  are  the  dream  I  have  gone 
searching  always !  Ah,  Shirley,  Shirley,  Shirley!  " 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

THE  DOCTOR  SPEAKS 

WHILE  the  vibrant  strings  hummed  and 
sang  through  the  roses,  and  the  couples 
drifted  on  tireless  and  content,  or  blissfully  "  sat 
out "  dances  on  the  stairway,  Katharine  Fargo  held 
her  stately  court  no  less  gaily  for  the  stealthy  doubt 
that  was  creeping  over  her  spirit.  She  had  been  so 
certain  of  what  would  happen  that  evening  that 
when  her  father  (between  cigars  on  the  porch  with 
Judge  Chalmers  and  Doctor  Southall)  had  searched 
her  out  under  a  flag-of -truce,  she  had  sent  him  to 
the  right-about,  laughingly  declining  to  depart  be- 
fore royalty.  But  number  followed  number,  and 
the  knight  in  purple  and  gold  had  not  paused  again 
before  her.  Now  the  scarlet  cloak  no  longer 
flaunted  among  the  dancers,  and  the  white  satin 
gown  and  sparkling  coronal  had  disappeared.  The 
end  of  the  next  "  round-dance  "  found  her  subsid- 
ing into  the  flower-banked  alcove  suddenly  distrait 
amid  her  escort's  sallies.  It  was  at  this  moment 
that  she  saw,  entering  the  corridor  from  the  gar- 
den, the  missing  couple. 

It  was  not  the  faint  flush  on  Shirley's  cheek  — « 
328 


THE  DOCTOR  SPEAKS  329 

that  was  not  deep  —  nor  was  it  his  nearness  to  her, 
though  they  stood  closely,  as  lovers  might.  But 
there  was  in  both  their  faces  a  something  that 
resurgent  conventionality  had  not  had  time  to 
cover  —  a  trembling  reflection  of  that  "light  that 
never  was,  on  sea  or  land  " —  which  was  like  a  death- 
stab  to  what  lay  far  deeper  than  Katharine's  heart, 
her  pride.  She  drew  swiftly  back,  dismayed  at  the 
sudden  verification,  and  for  an  instant  her  whole 
body  chilled. 

A  craving  for  a  glass  of  water  has  served  its  pur- 
pose a  thousand  times;  as  her  cavalier  solicitously 
departed  to  fetch  the  cooling  draught,  she  rose,  and 
carelessly  humming  the  refrain  the  music  had  just 
left  off,  sauntered  lightly  out  by  another  door  to  the 
open  air.  A  swift  glance  about  her  showed  her  she 
was  unobserved  and  she  stepped  down  to  the  grass 
and  along  the  winding  path  to  a  bench  at  some  dis- 
tance in  the  shrubbery.  Here  the  smiling  mask 
slipped  from  her  face  and  with  a  shiver  she  dropped 
her  hot  face  in  her  hands. 

There  were  no  tears.  The  wave  that  was  welling 
over  her  was  one  of  bitter  humiliation.  She  had 
shot  her  bolt  and  missed — 'She,  Katharine  Fargo! 
For  three  years  she  had  held  John  Valiant,  roman- 
tically speaking,  in  the  hollow  of  her  shapely  hand. 
Now  she  had  all  but  thrown  herself  at  his  feet  — 
and  he  had  turned  away  to  this  flame-haired,  vivid 
girl  whom  he  had  not  known  as  many  months! 


330      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

The  rankling  barb  was  dipped  in  no  poison  of  un- 
requited love.  Hers  was  the  anger  of  the  self- 
willed  and  intensely  proud  woman  denied  her  dear- 
est wish,  and  crossed  and  flouted  for  the  first  time 
in  her  pampered  exquisite  life. 

Heavy  footfalls  all  at  once  approached  her  —  two 
men  were  coming  from  the  house.  There  was  the 
spitting  crackle  of  a  match,  and  as  she  peered  out,  its 
red  flare  lighted  the  massive  face  and  floating  hair 
of  Major  Bristow.  His  companion's  face  was  in 
the  shadow.  She  waited,  thinking  they  would  pass ; 
but  to  her  annoyance,  when  she  looked  again,  they 
had  seated  themselves  on  a  bench  a  few  paces  away. 
To  be  found  mooning  in  the  shrubbery  like  a 
schoolgirl  did  not  please  her,  but  it  seemed  there 
was  no  recourse,  and  she  had  half  arisen,  when  the 
major's  gruff-voiced  companion  spoke  a  name  that 
caused  her  to  sit  down  abruptly.  To  do  Katharine 
justice,  it  did  not  occur  to  her  at  the  moment  that 
she  was  eavesdropping.  And  such  was  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  sentences  she  heard,  and  such  their  bear- 
ing on  the  turmoil  of  her  mind,  that  a  woman  of 
more  sensitive  fiber  might  have  lingered. 
"  Bristow,  Shirley's  a  magnificent  girl." 
"  Finest  in  seven  counties,"  agreed  the  major's 
bass. 

"  Whom  do  you  reckon  she'll  jhoose  to  marry  ?  " 
"  Chilly  Lusk,  of  course.     The  boy's  been  in  love 


THE  DOCTOR  SPEAKS  331 

with  her  since  they  were  in  bibs.  And  he  comes  as 
near  being  fit  for  her  as  anybody." 

"  Humph  !  "  said  the  other  sardonically.  "  No 
man  I  ever  saw  was  half  good  enough  for  a  good 
woman.  But  good  women  marry  just  the  same.  It 
isn't  Lusk.  I  used  to  think  it  would  be,  but  I've  got 
a  pair  of  eyes  in  my  head,  if  you  haven't.  It's 
young  Valiant." 

The  pearl  fan  twisted  in  Katharine's  fingers. 
What  she  had  guessed  was  an  open  secret,  then  ! 

The  major  made  an  exclamation  that  had  the 
effect  of  coming  after  a  jaw-dropped  silence.  "  I 
—  I  never  thought  of  that  !  " 

The  other  resumed  slowly,  somewhat  bitterly,  it 
seemed  to  the  girl  listening.  "If  her  mother  was  in 
love  with  Sassoon  —  " 

Katharine's  heart  beat  fast  and  then  stood  still. 
Sassoon  !  That  was  the  name  of  the  man  Valiant's 
father  had  killed  in  that  old  duel  of  which  Judge 
Chalmers  had  told!  "If  her  mother  "—  Shirley 
Dandridge's  mother  —  "  was  in  love  with  Sassoon  !  " 
Why—  . 


The  major's  query  held  a  sharpness  that  seemed 
almost  appeal.  She  was  conscious  that  the  other 
had  faced  about  abruptly. 

"  I've  always  believed  so,  certainly.  If  she  had 
loved  Valiant,  would  she  have  thrown  him  over 


332       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

merely  because  he  broke  his  promise  not  to  be  a 
party  to  a  quarrel  ?  " 

:<  You  think  not  ?  "  said  the  major  huskily. 

"  Not  under  the  circumstances.  Valiant  was 
forced  into  it.  No  gentleman,  at  that  day,  could 
have  declined  the  meeting.  He  could  have  explained 
it  to  Judith's  satisfaction — a  woman  doesn't  need 
much  -evidence  to  justify  the  man  she's  in  love  with. 
He  must  have  written  her  —  he  couldn't  have  gone 
away  without  that  —  and  if  she  had  loved  him,  she 
would  have  called  him  back." 

The  major  made  no  answer.  Katharine  saw  a 
cigar  fall  unheeded  upon  the  grass,  where  it  lay 
glowing  like  a  panther's  eye. 

The  other  had  risen  now,  his  stooped  figure  bulk- 
ing in  the  moonlight.  His  voice  sounded  harsh  and 
strained :  "  I  loved  Beauty  Valiant,"  he  said,  "  and 
his  son  is  his  son  to  me  —  but  I  have  to  think  of 
Judith,  too.  She  fainted,  Bristow,  when  she  saw 
him  —  Shirley  told  me  about  it.  Her  mother  has 
made  her  think  it  was  the  scent  of  the  roses !  He's 
his  father's  living  image,  and  he's  brought  the  past 
back  with  him.  Every  sound  of  his  voice,  every 
sight  of  his  face,  will  be  a  separate  stab!  Oh,  his 
mere  presence  will  be  enough  for  Judith  to  bear. 
But  with  her  heart  in  the  grave  with  Sassoon,  what 
would  love  between  Shirley  and  young  Valiant  mean 
to  her?  Think  of  it!" 

He  broke  off,  and  there  was  a  blank  of  silence,  in 


THE  DOCTOR  SPEAKS  333 

which  he  turned  with  almost  a  sigh.  Then  Katha- 
rine saw  him  reach  the  bench  with  a  single  stride  and 
drop  his  hand  on  the  bowed  shoulder. 

"  Bristow !  "  he  said  bruskly.  "  You're  ill !  This 
confounded  philandering  at  your  time  of  life — " 

The  major's  face  looked  ashy  pale,  but  he  got  up 
with  a  laugh.  "  Not  I,"  he  said ;  "  I  was  never  bet- 
ter in  my  life!  We've  had  our  mouthful  of  air. 
Come  on  back  to  the  house." 

"  Not  much !  "  grunted  the  other.  "  I'm  going 
where  we  both  ought  to  have  been  hours  ago."  He 
threw  away  his  cigar  and  stalked  down  the  path  into 
the  darkness. 

The  major  stood  looking  after  him  till  he  had 
disappeared,  then  suddenly  dropped  on  the  bench 
and  covered  his  face.  Something  like  a  groan  burst 
from  him. 

"  My  God !  "  he  said,  and  his  voice  came  to  Katha- 
rine with  a  quaver  of  age  and  suffering  —  very  dif- 
ferent from  the  jovial  accents  of  the  ballroom  — "  if 
I  were  only  sure  it  was  Sassoon !  " 

Presently  he  rose,  and  went  slowly  toward  the 
lighted  doorway. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

THE   AMBUSH 

NOT  long  after,  from  the  musicians'  bower  the 
sound  of  Home,  Sweet  Home  drifted  over 
the  poignant  rose-scent,  and  presently  the  drive- 
way resounded  to  rolling  wheels  and  the  voices  of 
negro  drivers,  and  the  house-entrance  jostled  with 
groups,  muffled  in  loose  carriage-wraps,  silken 
eloaks  and  light  overcoats,  calling  tired  but  laughing 
farewells. 

Katharine,  on  the  step,  found  herself  looking  into 
Valiant's  eyes.  "  How  can  I  tell  you  how  much  I 
have  enjoyed  it  all  ?  "  she  said.  "  I've  stayed  till  the 
very  last  minute  —  which  is  something  for  one's 
fourth  season!  And  now,  good-by,  for  we  are  off 
to-morrow  for  Hot  Springs."  Her  face  may  have 
been  a  little  worn,  a  trifle  hard  under  the  emerald- 
tinted  eyes,  but. her  smile  seemed  friendly  and  un- 
clouded. 

Her  father  had  long  ago  betaken  himself  home- 
ward, and  the  big  three-seated  surrey  —  holding 
"  six  comf  table  and  nine  fumiliah,"  in  the  phrase  of 
Lige  the  coachman  —  had  returned  for  the  rest : 
Judge  Chalmers,  the  two  younger  girls  and  Shirley. 

334 


THE  AMBUSH.  335 

Katharine  greeted  the  latter  with  a  charming  smile. 
What  more  natural  than  that  she  should  find  herself 
straightway  on  the  rear  seat  with  royalty  ?  The  two 
girls  safely  disposed  in  the  middle,  the  judge  climbed 
up  beside  the  driver,  who  cracked  his  whip  and  they 
were  off. 

The  way  was  not  long,  and  Katharine  had  need 
of  despatch  if  that  revengeful  weapon  were  to  be 
used  which  fate  had  put  into  her  hands.  She 
wasted  little  time. 

"  It  seems  so  strange,"  she  said,  "  to  find  our  host 
in  such  surroundings!  I  can  scarcely  believe  him 
the  same  John  Valiant  I've  danced  with  a  hundred 
times  in  New  York.  He's  been  here  such  a  short 
while  and  yet  he  couldn't  possibly  be  more  at  home 
if  he'd  lived  in  Virginia  always.  And  you  all  treat 
him  as  if  he  were  quite  one  of  yourselves." 

Shirley  smiled  enchantingly.  "  Why,  yes,"  she 
jaid,  "  maybe  it  seems  odd  to  outsiders.  But,  you 
see,  with  us  a  Valiant  is  always  a  Valiant.  No  mat- 
ter where  he  has  lived,  he's  the  son  of  his  father  and 
the  master  of  Damory  Court." 

"  That's  the  wonderful  part  of  it.  It's  so  —  so 
English,  somehow." 

"  Is  it?  "  said  Shirley.  "  I  never  thought  of  it. 
But  perhaps  it  seems  so.  We  have  the  old  houses 
and  the  old  names  and  think  of  them,  no  doubt,  in 
the  same  way." 

"  What  a  sad  life  his  father  had !  "  pursued  Katha- 


336      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

rine  dreamily.  "  You  know  all  about  the  duel,  of 
course  ?  " 

Shirley  shrank  imperceptibly  now.  The  subject 
touched  Valiant  so  closely  it  seemed  almost  as  if  it 
belonged  to  him  and  to  her  alone  —  not  a  thing  to  be 
flippantly  touched  on.  "  Yes,"  she  said  some- 
what slowly,  "  every  one  here  knows  of  it." 

"  No  doubt  it  has  been  almost  forgotten,"  the 
other  continued,  "  but  John's  coming  must  naturally 
have  revamped  the  old  story.  What  was  it  about 
—  the  quarrel  ?  A  love-affair  ?  " 

"  I  —  I  don't  think  it  is  known." 

But  reluctant  coldness  did  not  deter  the  ques- 
tioner. "  Who  was  it  said  there  was  a  petticoat 
back  of  every  ancient  war  ? "  quoted  Katharine, 
lightly.  "  I  fancy  it's  the  same  with  the  duello.  But 
how  strange  that  nobody  knows.  Some  of  the  older 
ones  must,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

"  It's  so  long  ago,"  murmured  Shirley.  "  I  sup- 
pose some  could  tell  if  they  would." 

"  Major  Bristow,  perhaps,"  conjectured  Katha- 
rine thoughtfully. 

"  He  was  one  of  the  seconds,"  admitted  Shirley 
unhappily.  "  But  by  common  consent  that  side  of 
it  wasn't  talked  of  at  the  time.  Men  in  Virginia 
have  old-fashioned  ideas  about  women.  .  .  ." 

"  Ah,  it's  fine  of  them !  "  pseaned  Katharine.  "  I 
can  imagine  the  men  who  knew  about  that  dreadful 
affair,  in  their  Southern  chivalry,  drawing  a  cordon 


THE  AMBUSH  337 

of  silence  about  the  name  of  that  girl  with  her 
broken  heart !  For  if  she  loved  one  of  the  two,  it 
must  have  been  Sassoon  —  not  Valiant,  else  he 
would  have  stayed.  How  terrible  to  see  one's  lover 
killed  in  such  a  way.  ...  It  was  quickly  ended  for 
him,  but  the  poor  woman  was  left  to  bear  it  all  the 
years!  She  may  be  living  yet,  here  maybe,  some 
one  whom  everybody  knows.  I  suppose  I  am  im- 
aginative," she  added,  "  but  I  can't  help  wondering 
about  her.  I  fancy  she  would  never  wholly  get  over 
it,  never  be  able  to  forget  him,  though  she  tried." 

Shirley  made  some  reply  that  was  lost  in  the 
whirring  wheels.  The  other's  words  seemed  almost 
an  echo  of  what  she  herself  had  been  thinking. 

"  Maybe  she  married  after  a  while,  too.  A 
woman  must  make  a  life  for  herself,  you  know.  If 
she  lives  here,  it  will  be  sad  for  her,  this  opening  of 
the  old  wound  by  John's  coming.  .  .  .  And  looking 
so  like  his  father  — " 

Katharine  paused.  There  was  a  kind  of  exhilara- 
tion in  this  subtle  baiting.  Determined  as  she  was 
that  Shirley  should  guess  at  the  truth  before  that 
ride  ended,  bludgeon-wielding  was  not  to  her  taste. 
She  preferred  the  keen  needle-point  that  injected  its 
poison  before  the  thrust  was  even  felt.  She  waited, 
wondering  just  how  much  it  would  be  necessary  for 
her  to  say. 

Shirley  stirred  uneasily,  and  in  the  glimpsing  light 
her  face  looked  troubled.  Katharine's  voice  had 


338      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

touched  pathos,  and  in  spite  of  her  distaste  of  the 
subject,  Shirley  had  been  entering  into  the  feeling 
of  that  supposititious  woman.  There  had  come  to 
her,  like  a  touch  of  eery  clairvoyance,  the  sugges- 
tion the  other  had  meant  to  convey  of  her  actual  ex- 
istence; and  this  was  sharpened  by  the  sudden 
recollection  that  Valiant  had  himself  told  her  of  the 
resemblance  that  Katharine  recalled. 

The  judge,  on  the  front  seat,  was  telling  a  low- 
toned  story  over  his  shoulder  for  the  delectation  of 
Nancy  and  Betty,  but  Shirley  was  not  listening. 
Her  whole  mind  was  full  of  what  Katharine  had 
been  saying.  She  was  picturing  to  herself  this 
woman,  her  secret  hidden  all  these  years,  hearing 
of  John  Valiant's  coming  to  Darnory  Court,  learning 
of  this  likeness,  shrinking  from  sight  of  it,  dread- 
ing the  painful  memory  it  must  thrust  upon  her. 

"  Suppose  " —  Katharine's  voice  was  dreamy  — 
"  that  she  and  John  met  suddenly,  without  warning. 
What  would  she  do?  Would  she  say  anything? 
Perhaps  she  would  faint.  .  .  ." 

Shirley  started  violently.  Her  hands,  as  they 
drew  her  cloak  uncertainly  about  her,  began  to 
tremble,  as  if  with  cold.  Something  fell  from  them 
to  the  bottom  of  the  surrey. 

Through  her  chiffon  veil  Katharine  noted  this 
with  a  slow  smile.  It  had  been  easier  than  she  had 
thought.  She  said  no  more,  and  the  carriage  rolled 
on,  to  the  accompaniment  of  giggles  over  the  judge's 


THE  AMBUSH'  339 

peroration.  As  it  neared  the  Rosewood  lane  she 
leaned  toward  Shirley. 

"  You  have  dropped  your  fan,"  said  she  " —  and 
your  gloves,  too.  ...  I  might  have  reached  them 
for  you.  Why,  we  are  there  already.  How  short 
the  drive  has  seemed !  " 

"  Don't  drive  up  the  lane,  Lige,"  said  Shirley, 
and  her  voice  seemed  sharp  and  strange  even  to 
herself.  "  The  wheels  would  wake  mother." 
Katharine  bade  her  good-by  with  careful  sweetness, 
as  the  judge  bundled  her  down  in  his  strong  friendly 
arms. 

"  No/'  she  told  him,  "  don't  come  with  me.  It's 
not  a  bit  necessary.  Emmaline  will  be  waiting  for 
me." 

He  climbed  into  her  vacant  place  as  the  girls 
called  their  good  nights.  "  We'll  all  sleep  late 
enough  in  the  morning,  I  reckon,"  he  said  with  a 
laugh,  "  but  it's  been  a  great  success !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

WHAT   THE    CAPE   JESSAMINES    KNEW 

EMMALINE  was  crouched  in  a  chair  in  the 
hall,  a  rug  thrown  over  her  knees,  in  open- 
mouthed  slumber.  She  started  up  at  the  touch  of 
Shirley's  hand,  yawning  widely. 

"  I  'clare  to  goodness,''  she  muttered,  "  I  was 
jes'  fixin'  t'  go  t'  sleep!  "  The  lamp  on  the  table 
was  low  and  she  turned  up  the  wick,  then  threw 
up  her  arms  like  ramrods,  in  delight. 

"  Lor',  honey,"  she  said  in  a  rapturous  whisper, 
"  I  reck'n  they  all  say  yo'  was  th'  purties'  queen  on 
earth,  when  th'  vict'ry  man  set  that  crown,  with  th' 
di'mon's  as  big  as  scaley-barks,  on  that  little  gol' 
haid!  But  yo'  pale,  honey-chile.  Yo'  dance  yo'- 
se'f  mos'  ter  death,  I  reck'n." 

"I  —  I'm  so  tired,  Emmaline.  Take  the  crown. 
It's  heavy." 

The  negro  woman  untangled  the  glittering  points 
from  the  meshing  hair  with  careful  fingers.  "  Po' 
li'l  chickydee-dee !  "  she  said  lovingly.  "  Reck'n 
she  flop  all  th'  feddahs  outer  her  wings.  Gimme 
that  oF  tin  crown  —  I  like  ter  lam'  it  out  th'  winder ! 

340 


THE  CAPE  JESSAMINES  341 

Come  on,  now;  we  go  up-stairs  soft  so's  not  ter 
'sturb  Mis'  Judith." 

In  the  silvery-blue  bedroom,  she  deftly  unfastened 
the  hooks  of  the  heavy  satin  gown  and  coaxed  her 
mistress  to  lie  on  the  sofa  while  she  unpinned  the 
masses  of  waving  hair  till  they  lay  in  a  rich  surge 
over  the  cushion.  Then  she  brought  a  brush  and 
crouching  down  beside  her,  began  with  long  gentle 
strokes  to  smooth  out  the  silken  threads,  talking 
to  her  the  while  in  a  soft  crooning  monotone. 

"  I  jes'  know  Mis'  Judith  wish  she  well  ernuf  ter 
see  her  chile  bein'  queens  en  things  'mongst  all  th' 
othah  qual'ty !  When  they  want  er  queen  they  jes' 
gotter  come  fo'  her  little  girl.  Talk  'bout  th'  stars 
—  she  'way  above  them!  Ranston  he  say  Mistah 
Valiant  'bout  th'  bestes'  dancer  in  th'  world ;  say  th' 
papers  up  in  New  York  think  th'  sun  rise  en  set 
in  his  heels.  'Spec'  ter-night  he  dance  er  little  with 
th'  othahs  jes'  ter  be  p'lite,  till  he  git  back  ter  th' 
one  he  put  th'  crown  on.  So-o-o  tired  she  is !  But 
Em'line  gwine  ter  bresh  away  all  th'  achiness  —  en 
she  got  yo'  baid  all  turned  down  fo'  yo' — en  yo' 
pretty  little  night-dress  all  ready  —  en  yo'  gwineter 
sleep  —  en  sleep  —  till  yo'  kyan  sleep  no  mo'  no- 
how! " 

Under  these  ministrations  Shirley  lay  languid  and 
speechless,  her  eyes  closed.  The  fear  that  had 
stricken  her  heart  by  turns  seemed  a  cold  hand  press- 
ing upon  its  beating  and  an  algid  vapor  rising 


342      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

stealthily  over  it.  But  her  hands  were  hot  and  her 
eyelids  burned.  Finally  she  roused  herself. 

"  Thank  you,  Emmaline,"  she  said  in  a  tired 
voice,  "  good  night  now ;  I'm  going  to  sleep,  and  you 
must  go  to  bed,  too." 

But  alone  in  the  warm  wan  dark,  Shirley  lay 
staring  open-eyed  at  the  ceiling.  Slowly  the  terror 
was  seizing  upon  her,  the  dread,  noiseless  and  in- 
tangible, folding  her  in  the  shadow  of  its  numbing 
wings.  Was  her  mother  the  one  over  whom  that 
old  duel  had  been  fought?  Was  it  she  whose  love 
had  been  wrecked  in  that  long-ago  tragedy  that  all 
at  once  seemed  so  horribly  near  and  real?  Was 
that  the  explanation  of  her  fainting?  She  remem- 
bered the  cape  jessamines.  Was  the  date  of  that 
duel  —  of  the  death  of  Sassoon  —  the  anniversary 
her  mother  kept  ? 

She  sat  up  in  bed,  trembling.  Then  she  rose, 
and  opening  the  door  with  caution,  crept  down  the 
stair,  sliding  her  hot  hand  before  her  along  the  coal 
polished  banister.  Only  a  subdued  glimmer  came 
through  the  curtained  windows,  stealing  in  with  tfee 
ever-present  scent  of  the  arbors.  It  was  so  still  she 
thought  she  could  hear  the  very  heart  of  the  dark 
beating.  As  she  passed  through  the  lower  hall,  a 
hound  on  the  porch,  scenting  her,  stirred,  thumped 
his  tail  on  the  flooring,  and  whined.  Groping  her 
way  to  the  dining-room,  she  lighted  a  candle  and 
passed  through  a  corridor  into  a  low-ceilinged  cham- 


THE  CAPE  JESSAMINES  343 

ber  employed  as  a  general  receptacle  —  a  glorified 
garret,  as  Mrs.  Dandridge  dubbed  it. 

It  showed  a  strange  assemblage!  A  row  of 
chests,  stored  with  winter  clothing,  gave  forth  a 
clean  pungent  smell  of  cedar,  and  it  one  side  stood 
an  antique  spinet  and  a  worn  set  of  horsehair  furni- 
ture. Sofa  and  chairs  were  piled  with  excrescences 
in  the  shape  of  old  engravings  in  carved  ebony 
frames,  ancient  scrap-books  and  what-not,  and  on 
a  table  stood  a  rounded  glass  case  with  a  flat  base  — 
the  sort  in  which  an  older  generation  had  been  wont 
to  display  to  awestruck  admiration  its  terrifying 
concoctions  of  wax  fruit. 

Shirley  had  turnea  her  miserable  eyes  on  a 
book-shelf  along  one  waL  The  volumes  it  con- 
tained had  been  her  father'-,,  and  among  them  stood 
a  row  of  tomes  Caller  than  their  fellows  —  the  bound 
numbers  of  a  county  newspaper,  beginning  before 
the  war.  The  back  of  each  was  stamped  with  the 
year.  She.  was  deciphering  these  faded  imprints. 
"Thirty  years  ago,"  she  whispered;  "yes,  here 
it  is." 

She  set  down  the  candle  and  dragged  out  one  of 
the  huge  leather-backs.  Staggering  under  the 
weight,  she  rested  its  edge  on  the  table  and  began 
feverishly  to  turn  the  pages,  her  eye  on  the  date- 
line. She  stopped  presently  with  a  quick  breath  — 
she  had  reached  May  I5th.  The  year  was  that  of 
the  duel :  the  date  was  the  day  following  the  jessa- 


344      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

mine  anniversary.  Fearfully  her  eye  overran  the 
columns. 

Then  suddenly  she  put  her  open  hand  on  the  page 
as  though  to  blot  out  the  words,  every  trace  of  color 
stricken  from  cheek  and  brow.  But  the  line  seemed 
to  glow  up  through  the  very  flesh:  "Died,  May 
14-th;  Edward  Sassoon,  in  his  twenty-sixth  year." 

The  book  slipped  to  the  floor  with  a  crash  that 
echoed  through  the  room.  It  was  true,  then!  It 
zvas  Sassoon's  death  that  her  mother  mourned. 
The  man  in  whose  arms  she  had  stood  such  a  lit- 
tle while  ago  by  the  old  dial  of  Damory  Court  was 
the  son  of  the  man  who  had  killed  him!  She 
lifted  her  hands  to  her  breast  with  a  gesture  of 
anguish,  then  dropped  to  her  knees,  buried  her  face 
on  the  dusty  seat  of  one  of  the  rickety  horsehair 
chairs  and  broke  into  a  wild  burst  of  sobs,  noiseless 
but  terrible,  that  seemed  to  rise  in  her  heart  and 
tear  themselves  up  through  her  breast. 

"  Oh,  God,"  she  whispered,  "  just  when  I  was  so 
happy !  Oh,  mother,  mother !  You  loved  him,  and 
your  heart  broke  when  he  died.  It  was  Valiant 
who  broke  it  —  Valiant  —  Valiant.  His  father !  " 

She  slipped  down  upon  the  bare  floor  and 
crouched  there  shuddering  and  agonized,  her  dis- 
heveled hair  wet  with  her  tears.  Was  her  love  to  be 
but  the  thing  of  an  hour,  a  single  clasp  —  and  then, 
forever,  nothing?  His  father's  deed  was  not  his 
fault.  Yet  how  could  she  love  a  man  whose  every 


THE  CAPE  JESSAMINES  345 

feature  brought  a  pang  to  that  mother  she  loved 
more  than  herself?  So,  over  and  over,  the  wheel 
of  her  thought  turned  in  the  same  desolate  groove, 
and  over  and  over  the  paroxysms  of  grief  and  long- 
ing submerged  her. 

Dawn  was  paling  the  guttering  candle  and  streak- 
ing the  sky  outside  before  she  composed  herself. 
She  rose  heavily,  as  white  as  a  narcissus  flower, 
winding  back  her  hair  from  her  quivering  face,  and 
struggling  to  repress  the  tearless  sobs  that  still 
caught  stranglingly  at  her  breath.  The  gray  infil- 
trating light  seemed  gaunt  and  cruel,  and  the  thin 
cheeping  of  waking  sparrows  on  the  lawn  came  to 
her  with  a  haunting  intolerable  note  of  pain. 

Noiselessly  as  she  had  descended,  she  crept  again 
up  the  stair.  As  she  passed  her  mother's  door,  she 
paused  a  moment,  and  laying  her  arms  out  across  it, 
pressed  her  lips  to  the  dark  grain  of  the  wood. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  AWAKENING 

THE  sun  had  passed  the  meridian  next  day 
when  Valiant  awoke,  from  a  sleep  as  deep 
as  Abou  ben  Adhem's,  yet  one  crowded  with  flying 
tiptoe  dreams.  Inchoate  and  of  such  flimsy  ma- 
terial that  the  first  whiff  of  reality  dissipated  them 
like  smoke,  these  nevertheless  left  behind  them  a 
fragrance,  a  sensation  of  golden  sweetness  and  de- 
light. The  one  great  fact  of  Shirley's  love  had  lain 
at  the  core  of  all  these  honied  images,  and  his  mind 
was  full  of  it  as  his  eyes  opened,  wide  all  at  once, 
to  the  new  day. 

He  looked  at  his  watch  and  rolled  from  the  bed 
with  a  laugh.  "  Past  twelve ! "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Good  heavens !  What  about  all  the  work  I  had 
laid  out  for  to-day?" 

He  went  down  the  stair  in  his  bath-robe.  The 
walls  were  still  wreath-hung,  but  the  rooms  had  been 
despoiled  of  their  roses :  only  a  dozen  vases  of 
blooms  still  unwithered  remained  of  the  greater 
glory;  and  in  the  yellow  parlor  —  a  great  heap  of 
shriveled  petals,  broken  ivy  and  dewy-blue  cedar 
berries,  sprinkled  with  wisps  of  feathers  and  se- 

346 


THE  AWAKENING  347 

quinned  beads  —  lay  the  shattered  remainders  of 
last  night's  gaiety. 

Presently  he  was  splashing  in  the  lake,  shoot- 
ing under  his  curved  hand  unerring  jets  of  water 
at  Chum,  who  danced  about  the  rim  barking,  now 
venturing  to  wet  a  valorous  paw,  now  scrambling  up 
the  bank  to  escape  the  watery  javelins. 

It  was  another  perfect  day,  though  far  on  the 
mountainous  horizon  a  blue-black  density  promised 
otherwise  for  the  morrow.  The  sun  lay  golden-soft 
over  the  huddled  hills.  Birds  darted  hither  and 
thither,  self-important  bumble-bees  boomed  from 
vine  to  vine  and  the  shady  lake-corners  flashed  with 
dragon-flies.  The  stately  white  swans  turned  their 
arching  necks  interrogatively  toward  the  splashing, 
and  the  brown  ducks,  Peezletree  and  Pilgarlic, 
quacked  and  gobbled  softly  to  each  other  among  the 
lily-pads. 

Valiant  came  up  the  terraces  with  his  blood  bound- 
ing to  a  new  rapture.  Crossing  the  garden,  he  ran 
quickly  to  the  little  close  which  held  the  sun-dial  and 
pulled  a  single  great  passion-flower.  He  stood  a  mo- 
ment holding  it  to  his  face,  his  nostrils  catching  its 
faint  elusive  perfume.  Only  last  night,  under  the 
moon,  he  had  stood  there  with  Shirley  in  his  arms. 
A  gush  of  the  unbelievable  sweetness  of  that  mo- 
ment poured  over  him.  His  face  softened. 

Standing  with  his  sandaled  feet  deep  in  the  white 
blossoms,  the  sun  on  his  damp  hair  and  the  loose 


348      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

robe  clinging  to  his  moist  limbs,  he  gave  himself 
to  a  sudden  day-dream.  A  wonderful  waking 
dream  of  joy  over  flood  ing  years  of  ambit  ionless 
ease;  of  the  Damory  Court  that  should  be  in  days 
to  come. 

Summer  would  pass  to  autumn,  with  maple- 
foliage  falling  in  golden  rain,  and  fawn-brown  fields 
scattered  with  life-everlasting,  with  the  wine-red 
beauty  of  October,  its  purple  pageant  of  crimsoning 
woods,  its  opal  haze  of  Indian  summer,  and  scent 
of  burning  leaves.  Frost  would  lay  its  spectral 
stain  over  the  old  house  like  star-dew,  and  the  scent 
of  cider  would  linger  under  the  apple-trees.  In  his 
mind's  eye  he  could  see  Uncle  Jefferson  bent  with 
the  weight  of  hickory-logs  for  the  eager  chimney- 
piece,  deep  as  the  casement  of  a  fortress.  Snow- 
sandaled  winter  would  lay  its  samite  on  the  dark 
blue  ramparts  of  the  mountains,  and  droop  the  naked 
boughs  of  the  mock-orange  bushes,  dishevel  the 
evergreens  like  rough-and-tumble  schoolboys,  and 
cover  the  frosted  ruts  of  the  Red  Road.  But  in 
Damory  Court  would  be  cheerful  warmth  and 
friendly  noises,  with  a  loved  woman  standing  be- 
fore the  crackling  fireplace  whose  mottoed  "I 
clinge"  was  for  him  written  in  her  fringed  and 
gentian  eyes.  So  he  stood  dreaming  —  a  dream  in 
the  open  sunlight,  of  a  future  that  should  never  end, 
of  work  and  plan,  of  comradeship  and  understand- 
ing, of  cheer  and  tenderness  and  clasping1  hands  and 


THE  AWAKENING  ?49 

clinging  lips  —  of  a  woman's  arms  held  out  in  that 
same  adorable  gesture  of  the  tourney  field,  to  little 
children's  uncertain  footsteps  across  that  polished 
floor. 

When  he  came  from  the  little  close  there  was  a 
new  mystery  in  the  sunshine,  a  fresh  and  joyous 
meaning  in  the  intense  blue  overarching  of  the  im- 
ponderable sky.  Every  bird-note  held  its  own  love- 
secret.  A  wood-thrush  sang  it  from  a  silver  birch 
beside  the  summer-house,  and  a  bob-white  whistled 
it  in  the  little  valley  beyond.  Even  the  long  trip- 
hammer of  a  far-away  woodpecker  beat  a  radiant 
tattoo. 

He  paused  to  greet  the  flaming  peacock  that 
sent  out  a  curdling  screech,  in  which  the  tentative 
potterack!  potterack!  of  a  guinea-fowl  tangled  itself 
softly.  "  Go  on/'  he  invited.  "  Explode  all  you 
want  to,  old  Fire-Cracker.  Hang  your  purple-and- 
gold  pessimism!  You  only  make  the  birds  sound 
sweeter.  Perhaps  that's  what  you're  for  —  who 
knows  ?  " 

He  tried  to  work,  but  work  was  not  for  that  mar- 
velous afternoon.  He  wandered  about  the  gardens, 
planning  this  or  that  addition :  a  little  longer  sweep 
to  the  pansy-bed  —  a  clump  of  bull-rushes  at  the  far- 
ther end  of  the  lake.  He  peered  into  the  stable :  a 
saddle  horse  stood  there  now,  but  there  should  be 
more  steeds  stamping  in  those  stalls  one  day,  good 


350      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

horse-flesh  bought  with  sound  walnut  timber  from 
the  hillside.  How  he  and  Shirley  would  go  gallop- 
ing over  those  gleaming  roads,  in  that  roseate  future 
when  she  belonged  to  him ! 

Uncle  Jefferson,  from  the  door  of  the  kitchens, 
watched  him  swinging  about  in  the  sunshine,  whist- 
ling the  Indian  Serenade. 

"  Young  mars'  feel  'way  up  in  de  clouds  dis 
day,"  he  said  to  Aunt  Daphne.  "  He  wake  up  ez 
glad  ez  ef  he  done  'fessed  'ligion  las'  night.  Well, 
all  de  folkses  cert'n'y  'joyed  deyselves.  OF  Mistah 
Fargo  done  eat  'bout  forty  uh  dem  jumbles.  Ah 
heah  him  talkin'  ter  Mars'  John.  *  Reck'n  yo'  mus' 
hab  er  crackahjack  cook  down  heah,'  he  say. 
Hyuh,  hyuh!" 

"  G'way  wid  yo'  blackgyardin' !  "  sniffed  Aunt 
Daphne,  delighted.  "  Don'  need  ter  come  eroun' 
honey-caffuddlin'  me! " 

"  Dat's  whut  he  say,"  insisted  Uncle  Jefferson ; 
"  he  did  fo'  er  fac' !  " 

She  drew  her  hands  from  the  suds  and  looked  at 
him  anxiously.  "  Jeff'son,  yo'  reck'n  Mars'  John 
gwineter  fotch  dat  Yankee  'ooman  heah  ter  Dam'ry 
Co'ot,  ter  be  ouah  mistis  ?  " 

"Humph!"  scoffed  her  spouse.  "Dat  high- 
falutin'  gal  whut  done  swaller  de  ramrod?  No 
suh-ree-bob-tail !  De  oldah  yo'  gits,  de  mo'  fool- 
ishah  yo'  citations  is !  Don'  yo'  tek  no  mo'  trouble 
on  yo'  back  den  yo'  kin  keek  off 'n  yo'  heels !  She 


THE  AWAKENING  351 

ain'  gwineter  run  dis  place,  er  ol'  Devil-John  tuhn 
ovah  in  he  grave !  " 

Sunset  found  Valiant  sitting  in  the  music-room 
before  the  old  square  piano.  In  the  shadowy  cham- 
ber the  keys  of  mother-of-pearl  gleamed  with  dull 
colors  under  his  fingers.  He  struck  at  first  only 
broken  chords,  that  became  finally  the  haunting 
barcarole  of  Tales  of  Hoffmann.  It  was  the  air 
that  had  drifted  across  the  garden  when  he  had 
stood  with  Shirley  by  the  sun-dial,  in  the  moment 
of  their  first  kiss.  Over  and  over  he  played  it,  im- 
provising dreamy  variations,  till  the  tender  melody 
seemed  the  dear  ghost  of  that  embrace.  At  length 
he  went  into  the  library  and  in  the  crimsoning  light 
sat  down  at  the  desk,  and  began  to  write : 

"  Dear  Bluebird  of  mine: 

"  I  can't  wait  any  longer  to  talk  to  you.  Less 
than  a  day  has  passed  since  we  were  together,  but  it 
might  have  been  eons,  if  one  measured  time  by 
heart-beats.  What  have  you  been  doing  and  think- 
ing, I  wonder?  I  have  spent  those  eons  in  the 
garden,  just  wandering  about,  dreaming  over  those 
wonderful,  wonderful  moments  by  the  sun-dial. 
Ah,  dear  little  wild  heart  born  of  the  flowers,  with 
the  soul  of  a  bird  (yet  you  are  woman,  too!)  that 
old  disk  is  marking  happy  hours  now  for  me! 

"  How  have  I  deserved  this  thing  that  has  come 
to  me  ?  —  sad  bungler  that  I  have  been !  Sometimes 
it  seems  too  glad  and  sweet,  and  I  am  suddenly 
desperately  afraid  I  shall  wake  to  find  myself  facing 


352      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

another  dull  morning  in  that  old,  useless,  empty  life 
of  mine.  I  am  very  humble,  dear,  before  your  love. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  when  it  began  with  me  ?  Not 
last  night  —  nor  the  day  we  planted  the  ramblers. 
(Do  you  know,  when  your  little  muddy  boot  went 
trampling  down  the  earth  about  their  roots,  I  wanted 
to  stoop  down  and  kiss  it?  So  dear  everything 
about  you  was!)  Not  that  evening  at  Rosewood, 
with  the  arbor  fragrance  about  us.  (I  think  I  shall 
always  picture  you  with  roses  all  about  you.  Red 
roses  the  color  of  your  lips!)  No,  it  was  not  then 
that  it  began  —  nor  that  dreadful  hour  when  you 
fought  with  me  to  save  my  life  —  nor  the  morning 
you  sat  your  horse  in  the  box-rows  in  that  yew- 
green  habit  that  made  your  hair  look  like  molten 
copper.  No,  it  began  the  first  afternoon,  when  I 
sat  in  my  motor  with  your  rose  in  my  hand !  It  has 
never  left  me  since,  by  day  or  by  night.  And  yet 
there  are  people  in  this  age  of  airships  and  honking 
highways  and  typewriters  who  think  love-at-first- 
sight  is  as  out-of-date  as  our  little  grandmothers' 
hoops  rusting  in  the  garret.  Ah,  sweetheart,  I,  for 
one,  know  better ! 

"  Suppose  I  had  not  come  to  Virginia  —  and 
known  you!  My  heart  jumps  when  I  think  of  it. 
It  makes  one  believe  in  fate.  Here  at  the  Court  I 
found  an  old  leaf -calendar  —  it  sits  at  my  elbow 
now,  just  as  I  came  on  it.  The  date  it  shows  is 
May  1 4th,  and  its  motto  is :  Every  man  carries  his 
fate  upon  a  riband  about  his  neck.  I  like  that. 

"  That  first  Sunday  at  St.  Andrew's,  I  thought 
of  a  day  —  may  it  be  soon !  —  when  you  and  I 
might  stand  before  that  altar,  with  your  people  (my 
people,  too,  now)  around  us,  and  I  shall  hear  you 


THE  AWAKENING^  353 

say :  '  I,  Shirley,  take  thee,  John  — '  And  to 
think  it  is  really  to  come  true !  Do  you  remember 
the  text  the  minister  preached  from  ?  It  was  '  But 
all  men  perceive  that  they  have  riches,  and  that  their 
faces  shine  as  the  faces  of  angels.'  I  think  I  shall 
go  about  henceforth  with  my  face  shining,  so  that 
all  men  will  see  that  7  have  riches  —  your  love  for 
me,  dear. 

"  I  am  so  happy  .1  can  hardly  see  the  words  — 
or  perhaps  it  is  that  the  sun  has  set.  I  am  sending 
this  over  by  Uncle  Jefferson.  Send  me  back  just 
a  word  by  him,  sweetheart,  to  say  I  may  come  to 
you  to-night.  And  add  the  three  short  words  I 
am  so  thirsty  to  hear  over  and  over  —  one  verb 
between  two  pronouns  —  so  that  I  can  kiss  them  all 
at  once ! " 

He  raised  his  head,  a  little  flushed  and  with  eyes 
brilliant,  lighted  a  candle,  sealed  the  letter  with  the 
ring  he  wore  and  despatched  it. 

Thereafter  he  sat  looking  into  the  growing  dusk, 
watching  the  pale  lamps  of  the  constellations  deepen 
to  green  gilt  against  the  lapis-lazuli  of  the  sky,  and 
listening  to  the  insect  noises  dulling  into  the  woven 
chorus  of  evening.  Uncle  Jefferson  was  long  in 
returning,  and  he  grew  impatient  finally  and  began 
to  prowl  through  the  dusky  corridors  like  a  leopard, 
then  to  the  front  porch  and  finally  to  the  driveway, 
listening  at  every  turn  for  the  familiar  slouching 
step. 

When  at  length  the  old  negro  appeared,  Valiant 


354      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

took  the  note  he  brought,  his  heart  beating  rapidly, 
and  carried  it  hastily  in  to  the  candle-light.  He 
did  not  open  it  at  once,  but  sat  for  a  full  minute 
pressing  it  between  his  palms  as  though  to  extract 
from  the  delicate  paper  the  beloved  thrill  of  her 
touch.  His  hand  shook  slightly  as  he  drew  the 
folded  leaves  from  the  envelope.  How  would  it  be- 
gin? "My  Knight  of  the  Crimson  Rose?"  or 
"  Dear  Gardener?  "  (She  had  called  him  Gardener 
the  day  they  had  set  out  the  roses)  or  perhaps  even 
"  Sweetheart  "?  It  would  not  be  long,  only  a  mere 
"  Yes  "  or  "  Come  to  me,"  perhaps ;  yet  even  the 
shortest  missive  had  its  beginning  and  its  ending. 

He  opened  and  read. 

For  an  instant  he  stared  unbelievingly.  Then  the 
paper  crackled  to  a  ball  in  his  clutched  hand,  and  he 
made  a  hoarse  sound  which  was  half  a  cry,  then  sat 
perfectly  still,  his  whole  face  shuddering.  What 
he  crushed  in  his  hand  was  no  note  of  tender  love- 
phrases;  it  was  an  abrupt  dismissal.  The  stagger- 
ing contretemps  struck  the  color  from  his  face  and 
left  every  nerve  raw  and  quivering.  To  be  "  noth- 
ing to  her,  as  she  could  be  nothing  to  him  "  ?  He 
felt  a  ghastly  inclination  to  laugh.  Nothing  to  her ! 
The  meaning  of  the  lines  was  monstrous.  It  was 
inconceivable. 

Presently,  his  brows  frowning  heavily,  he  spread 
out  the  crumpled  paper  and  reread  it  with  bitter  slow- 
ness, weighing  each  phrase.  "  Something  which 


THE  AWAKENING  355 

she  had  learned  since  she  last  saw  him,  which  lay 
between  them."  She  had  not  known  it,  then,  last 
night,  when  they  had  kissed  beside  the  sun-dial ! 
She  had  loved  him  then !  What  could  there  be  that 
thrust  them  irrevocably  apart? 

He  sprang  up  and  paced  the  floor  in  a  blinding 
passion  of  resentment  and  revolt.  :<  You  shall!  you 
shall! "  he  said  between  his  set  teeth.  "  We  belong 
to  each  other!  There  can  be  nothing,  nothing  to 
separate  us ! "  Again  he  pored  over  the  page. 
"  She  could  not  see  him  again,  could  not  even  ex- 
plain." The  words  seemed  to  echo  themselves,  bleak 
as  hail  on  a  prison  pane.  "  If  he  went  to  St.  An- 
drew's, he  might  find  the  reason  why."  What  could 
she  mean  by  the  reference  to  St.  Andrew's?  He 
caught  at  that  as  a  clue.  Could  the  old  church  tell 
him  what  had  reared  itself  in  such  dismal  fashion 
between  them? 

Without  stopping  to  think  of  the  darkness  or  that 
the  friendly  doors  of  the  edifice  would  be  closed, 
he  caught  up  his  hat  and  went  swiftly  down  the 
drive  to  the  road,  along  which  he  plunged  breath- 
lessly. The  blue  star-sprinkled  sky  was  now 
streaked  with  clouds  like  faded  orchids,  and  the 
shadows  on  the  uneven  ground  under  his  hurried 
feet  made  him  giddy.  Through  the  din  and  hurly- 
burly  of  his  thoughts  he  was  conscious  of  dknly- 
moving  shapes  across  fences,  the  sweet  breath  of 
cows,  and  a  negro  pedestrian  who  greeted  him  in 


356      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

passing.  He  was  stricken  suddenly  with  the  thought 
that  Shirley  was  suffering,  too.  It  seemed  incredible 
that  he  should  now  be  raging  along  a  country  road  at 
nightfall  to  find  something  that  so  horribly  hurt 
them  both. 

It  was  almost  dark  —  save  for  the  starlight  — 
when  he  saw  the  shadow  of  the  square  ivy-grown 
spire  rearing  stark  from  its  huddle  of  foliage  against 
the  blurred  background.  He  pushed  open  the  gate 
and  went  slowly  up  the  worn  path  toward  the  great 
iron-bound  and  hooded  door.  Under  the  larches  on 
either  hand  the  outlines  of  the  gravestones  loomed 
pallidly,  and  from  the  bell -tower  came  the  faint 
inquiring  cry  of  a  small  owl.  Valiant  stood  still, 
looking  about  him.  What  could  he  learn  here  ?  He 
read  no  answer  to  the  riddle.  A  little  to  one  side 
of  the  path  something  showed  snow-like  on  the 
ground,  and  he  went  toward  it.  Nearer,  he  saw 
that  it  was  a  mass  of  flowers,  staring  up  whitely 
from  the  semi-obscurity  from  within  an  iron  rail- 
ing. He  bent  over,  suddenly  noting  the  scent;  it 
was  cape  jessamine. 

With  a  curious  sensation  of  almost  prescience 
plucking  at  him,  he  took  a  box  of  vestas  from  his 
pocket  and  struck  one.  It  flared  up  illuminating  a 
flat  granite  slab  in  which  was  cut  a  name  and  in- 
scription : 

EDWARD  SASSOON 
"Forgive  us  our  trespasses." 


THE  AWAKENING  357 

The  silence  seemed  to  crash  to  earth  like  a  great 
looking-glass  and  shiver  into  a  million  pieces.  The 
wax  dropped  from  his  fingers  and  in  the  superven- 
ing darkness  a  numb  fright  gripped  him  by  the 
throat.  Shirley  had  laid  these  there,  on  the  grave 
of  the  man  his  father  had  killed  —  the  cape  jessa- 
mines she  had  wanted  that  day,  for  her  mother! 
He  understood. 

It  came  to  him  at  last  that  there  was  a  chill  mist 
groping  among  the  trees  and  that  he  was  very  cold. 

He  went  back  along  the  Red  Road  stumblingly. 
Was  this  to  be  the  end  of  the  dream,  which  he 
had  fancied  would  last  forever?  Could  it  be  that 
she  was  not  for  him  ?  Was  it  no  hoary  lie  that  the 
sins  of  the  fathers  were  visited  upon  the  third  and 
fourth  generation? 

When  he  reentered  the  library  the  candle  was 
guttering  in  the  burned  wings  of  a  night-moth. 
The  place  looked  all  at  once  gaunt  and  desolate  and 
despoiled.  What  could  Virginia,  what  could 
Damory  Court,  be  to  him  without  her?  The 
wrinkled  note  lay  on  the  desk  and  he  bent  suddenly 
with  a  sharp  catching  breath  and  kissed  it.  There 
welled  over  him  a  wave  of  rebellious  longing.  The 
candle  spread  to  a  hazy  yellow  blur.  The  walls 
fell  away.  He  stood  under  the  moonlight,  with 
his  arms  about  her,  his  lips  on  hers  and  his  heart 
beating  to  the  sound  of  the  violins  behind  them 


358      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

He  laughed —  a  harsh  wild  laugh  that  rang 
through  the  gloomy  room.  Then  he  threw  himself 
on  the  couch  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  He 
was  still  lying  there  when  the  misty  rain-wet  dawn 
came  through  the  shutters. 


CHAPTER  XLI 

THE  COMING  OF  GREEF  KING 

IT  was  Sunday  afternoon,  and  under  the  hemlocks, 
Rickey  Snyder  had  gathered  her  minions  — 
a  dozen  children  from  the  near-by  houses  with  the 
usual  sprinkling  of  little  blacks  from  the  kitchens. 
There  were  parents,  of  course,  to  whom  this  mingling 
of  color  and  degree  was  a  matter  of  conventional 
prohibition,  but  since  the  advent  of  Rickey,  in  whose 
soul  lay  a  Napoleonic  instinct  of  leadership,  this  was 
more  honored  in  the  breach  than  in  the  observance. 

"  My !  Ain't  it  scrumptious  here  now ! "  said 
Cozy  Cabell,  hanging  yellow  lady-slippers  over  her 
ears.  "  I  wish  we  could  play  here  always." 

"Mr.  Valiant  will  let  us,"  said  Rickey.  "I 
asked  him." 

"  Oh,  he  will,"  responded  Cozy  gloomily,  "  but 
he'll  probably  go  and  marry  somebody  who'll  be 
mean  about  it." 

"  Everybody  doesn't  get  married,"  said  one  of  the 
Byloe  twins,  with  masculine  assurance.  "Maybe 
he  won't." 

"  Much  a  boy  knows  about  it ! "  retorted  Cozy 
scornfully.  "  Women  have  to,  and  some  one  of 

339 


360      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

them  will  make  him.  (Greenville  Female  Seminary 
Simms,  if  you  slap  that  little  nigger  again,  I'll  slap 
you!)  " 

Greenie  rolled  over  on  the  grass  and  tittered. 
"  Miss  Mattie  Sue  didn',"  she  said.  "  Ah  heah  huh 
say  de  yuddah  day  et  wuz  er  moughty  good  feelin' 
ter  go  ter  baid  Mistis  en  git  up  Marstah ! " 

"  Well/'  said  Cozy,  tossing  her  head  till  the  flower 
earrings  danced,  "  I'm  going  to  get  married  if  the 
man  hasn't  got  anything  but  a  character  and  a  red 
mustache.  Married  women  don't  have  to  prove  they 
could  have  got  a  husband  if  they  had  wanted  to." 

"  Let's  play  something,"  proposed  Rosebud  Mere- 
dith, on  whom  the  discussion  palled.  "  Let's  play 
King,  King  Katiko." 

"  It's  Sunday !  " —  this  from  her  smaller  and 
more  righteous  sister.  "  We're  forbidden  to  play 
anything  but  Bible  games  on  Sunday,  and  if  Rose- 
bud does,  I'll  tell." 

"  Jay-bird  tattle-tale !  "  sang  Rosebud  derisively. 
"  Don't  care  if  you  do !  " 

"  Well,"  decreed  Rickey.  "  We'll  play  Sunday- 
school  then.  It  would  take  a  saint  to  object  to  that. 
I'm  superintendent  and  this  stump's  my  desk.  All 
you  children  sit  down  under  that  tree." 

They  ranged  themselves  in  two  rows,  the  white 
children,  in  clean  Sabbath  pinafores  and  go-to-meet- 
ing knickerbockers,  in  front  and  the  colored  ones,  in 
ginghams  and  cotton-prints,  ip  the  rear  —  the 


THE  COMING  OF  GREEF  KING     361 

habitual  expression  of  a  differing  social  station. 
"Oh!"  shrieked  Miss  Cabell,  "and  I'll  be  Mrs. 
Merry  weather  Mason  and  teach  the  infants'  class." 

"  There  isn't  any  infant  class,"  said  Rickey. 
"  How  could  there  be  when  there  aren't  any  in- 
fants? The  lesson  is  over  and  I've  just  rung  the 
bell  for  silence.  Children,  this  is  Missionary  Sun- 
day, and  I'm  glad  to  see  so  many  happy  faces  here 
to-day.  Cozy,"  she  said,  relenting,  "  you  can  be 
the  organist  if  you  want  to." 

"  I  won't,"  said  Cozy  sullenly.  "  If  I  can't  be 
table-cloth  I  won't  be  dish-rag." 

"  All  right,  you  needn't,"  retorted  Rickey  freez- 
ingly.  "  Sit  up,  Greenie.  People  don't  lie  on  their 
backs  in  Sunday-school." 

Greenie  yawned  dismally,  and  righted  herself 
with  injured  slowness.  "  Ah  diffuses  ter  'cep'  yo' 
insult,  Rickey  Snydah,"  she  said.  "  Ah'd  ruthah 
lose  mah  'ligion  dan  mah  laz'ness.  En  Ah  'spises 
yo'  'spisable  dissisition !  " 

"  Let  us  all  rise,"  continued  Rickey,  unmoved, 
"  and  sing  Kingdom  Coming/'  And  she  struck 
up  lustily,  beating  time  on  the  stump  with  a  stick : 

"  From  all  the  dark  places  of  earth's  heathen  races, 
O,  see  how  the  thick  shadows  flee !  " 

and  the  rows  of  children  joined  in  with  unction, 
the  colored  contingent  coming  out  strong  on  the 
chorus : 


362      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"  De  yerf  shall  be  full  ob  de  wunduhful  story 
As  watahs  dat  covah  de  sea !  " 

The  clear  voices  in  the  quiet  air  startled  the  flut- 
tering birds  and  sent  a  squirrel  to  the  tip-top  of  an 
oak,  from  which  he  looked  down,  flirting  his  brush. 
They  roused  a  man,  too,  who  had  lain  in  a  sodden 
sleep  under  a  bush  at  a  little  distance.  He  was 
ragged  and  soiled  and  his  heavy  brutal  face,  covered 
with  a  dark  stubble  of  some  days'  growth,  had  an 
ugly  scar  slanting  from  cheek  to  hair.  Without 
getting  up,  he  rolled  over  to  command  a  better  view, 
and  set  his  eyes,  blinking  from  their  slumber,  on 
the  children. 

"  We  will  now  take  up  the  collection,"  said 
Rickey.  ("You  can  do  it,  June.  Use  a  flat  piece 
of  bark).  Remember  that  what  we  give  to-day  is 
for  the  poor  heathen  in  —  in  Alabama." 

"  That's  no  heathen  place,"  objected  Cozy  with 
spirit.  "  My  cousin  lives  in  Alabama." 

"  Well,  then,"  acquiesced  Rickey,  "  anywhere  you 
like.  But  I  reckon  your  cousin  wouldn't  be  above 
taking  the  money.  For  the  poor  heathen  who 
have  never  heard  of  God,  or  Virginia,  or  anything. 
Think  of  them  and  give  cheerfully." 

The  bark-slab  made  its  rounds,  receiving  leaves, 
acorns,  and  an  occasional  pin.  Midway,  however, 
there  arose  a  shrill  shriek  from  the  bearer  and  the 
collection  was  scattered  broadcast.  "  Rosebud 
Meredith,"  said  Rickey  witheringly,  "  it  would 


THE  COMING  OF  GREEF  KING     363 

serve  you  right  for  putting  that  toad  in  the  plate 
if  your  hand  would  get  all  over  warts !  I'm  sure  I 
hope  it  will."  She  rescued  the  fallen  piece  of  bark 
and  announced:  "The  collection  this  afternoon 
has  amounted  to  a  hundred  dollars  and  seven  cents. 
And  now,  children,  we  will  skip  the  catechism  and 
I  will  tell  you  a  story/' 

Her  auditors  hunched  themselves  nearer,  a  double 
row  of  attentive  white  and  black  faces,  as  Rickey 
with  a  preliminary  bass  cough,  began  in  a  drawling 
tone  whose  mimicry  called  forth  giggles  of  ecstasy. 

"  There  were  once  two  little  sisters,  who  went  to 
Sunday-school  and  loved  their  teacher  ve-e-ery 
much.  They  were  always  good  and  attentive  — 
not  like  that  little  nigger  over  there!  The  one  with 
his  thumb  in  his  mouth!  One  was  little  Mary 
and  the  other  was  little  Susy.  They  had  a  mighty 
rich  uncle  who  lived  in  Richmond,  and  once  he 
came  to  see  them  and  gave  them  each  a  dollar.  And 
they  were  ve-e-ery  glad.  It  wasn't  a  mean  old 
paper  dollar,  all  dirt  and  creases;  nor  a  battered 
whitey  silver  dollar;  but  it  was  a  bright  round  gold 
dollar,  right  out  of  the  mint.  Little  Mary  and 
little  Susy  could  hardly  sleep  that  night  for  think- 
ing of  what  they  could  buy  with  those  gold  dollars. 

"  Early  next  morning  they  went  down-town,  hand 
in  hand,  to  the  store,  and  little  Susy  bought  a  bag 
of  goober-peas,  and  sticks  and  sticks  of  striped 
candy,  and  a  limber  jack,  and  a  gold  ring,  and  a  wax 


364      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

doll  with  a  silk  dress  on  that  could  open  and  shut  its 
eyes  ~" 

"  Huh !  "  said  the  captious  Cozy.  "  You  can't 
buy  a  wax  doll  for  a  dollar.  My  littlest,  littlest  one 
cost  three,  and  she  didn't  have  a  stitch  to  her  back !  " 

"Shut  up!"  said  Rickey  briefly.  "Dolls  were 
cheaper  then."  She  looked  at  the  row  of  little 
negroes,  goggle-eyed  at  the  vision  of  such  largess. 
"  What  do  you  think  little  Mary  did  with  her  gold 
dollar?  She  loved  dolls  and  candy,  too,  but  she 
had  heard  about  the  poo-oo-r  heathen.  There  was 
a  tear  in  her  eye,  but  she  took  the  dollar  home,  and 
next  day  when  she  went  to  Sunday-school,  she 
dropped  it  in  the  missionary-box. 

"  Little  children,  what  do  you  reckon  became  of 
that  dollar?  It  bought  a  big  satchel ful  of  tracts 
for  a  missionary.  He  had  been  a  poor  man  with 
six  children  and  a  wife  with  a  bone- felon  on  her 
right  hand  —  not  a  child  old  enough  to  wash  dishes 
and  all  of  them  young  enough  to  fall  in  the  fire 
—  so  he  had  to  go  and  be  a  missionary.  He  was 
going  to  Alabam  —  to  a  cannibal  island,  and  he 
took  the  tracts  and  sailed  away  in  a  ship  that  landed 
him  on  the  shore.  And  when  the  heathen  cannibals 
saw  him  they  were  ve-e-ery  glad,  for  there  hadn't 
been  any  shipwrecked  sailors  for  a  long  time,  and 
they  were  ve-e-ery  hungry.  So  they  tied  up  the 
missionary  and  gathered  a  lot  of  wood  to  make  a 
fire  and  cook  him. 


THE  COMING  OF  GREEE  KING     365 

"  But  it  had  rained  and  rained  and  rained  for  so 
long  that  the  wood  was  all  wet,  and  it  wouldn't 
burn,  and  they  all  cried  because  they  were  so  hungry. 
And  then  they  happened  to  find  the  satchel ful  of 
tracts,  and  the  tracts  were  ve-e-ery  dry.  They  took 
them  and  stuck  them  under  the  wet  wood,  and  the 
tracts  burned  and  the  wood  caught  fire  and  they 
cooked  the  missionary  and  ATE  him. 

"  Now,  little  children,  which  do  you  think  did  the 
most  good  with  her  dollar  —  little  Susy  or  little 
Mary?" 

The  front  row  sniggered,  and  a  sigh  came  from 
the  colored  ranks.  "  Dem  ar'  can'bals,"  gasped  a 
dusky  infant  breathlessly,  " —  dey  done  eat  up  all 
dat  candy  en  dem  goober-peas,  too  ?  " 

The  inquiry  was  drowned  in  a  shriek  from  several 
children  in  unison.  They  scrambled  to  their  feet, 
casting  fearful  glances  over  their  shoulders.  The 
man  who  had  been  lying  behind  the  bush  had  risen 
and  v/as  coming  toward  them  at  a  slouching  amble, 
one  foot  dragging  slightly.  His  appearance,  in- 
deed, was  enough  to  cause  panic.  With  his  savage 
face,  set  now  in  a  grin,  and  his  tramp-like  costume, 
he  looked  fierce  and  animal-like.  White  and  black, 
the  children  fled  like  startled  rabbits,  older  ones 
dragging  younger,  without  a  backward  look  —  all 
save  Rickey,  who  stood  quite  still,  her  widening 
eyes  fixed  on  him  in  a  kind  of  blanched  fascinated 
terror. 


366      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

He  came  close  to  her,  never  taking  his  eyes  from 
hers,  then  put  his  heavy  grimy  hand  under  her  chin 
and  turned  her  twitching  face  upward,  chuckling. 

"  Ain't  afeard,  damn  me!  "  he  said  with  admira- 
tion. "Wouldn't  skedaddle  with  th'  fine  folks' 
white-livered  young  }uns!  Know  who  I  am,  don't 
ye?" 

"  Greef  King."  Rickey's  lips  rather  formed  than 
spoke  the  name. 

"  Right.  An'  I  know  you,  too.  Got  jes'  th'  same 
look  ez  when  ye  wuzn't  no  higher'n  my  knee.  So 
ye  ain't  at  th'  Dome  no  mo',  eh?  Purkle  an'  fine 
linning  an'  a  eddication.  Ho-ho!  Goin'  ter  make 
ye  another  ladyess  like  the  sweet  ducky-dovey  that 
rescooed  ye  from  th'  lovin'  embrace  o'  yer  fond  step- 
parient,  eh?" 

Rickey's  small  arm  went  suddenly  out  and  her 
fingers  tore  at  his  shirt-band.  "  Don't  you,"  she 
burst  in  a  paroxysm  of  passion ;  "  don't  you  even 
speak  her  name !  If  you  do,  I'll  kill  you !  " 

So  fierce  was  her  leap  that  he  fell  back  a  step 
in  sheer  surprise.  Then  he  laughed  loudly.  "  Why, 
ye  little  spittin'  wile-cat ! "  he  grinned. 

He  leaned  suddenly,  gripped  her  wrist  and  cover- 
ing her  mouth  tightly  with  his  palm,  dragged  her 
behind  a  clump  of  dogwood  bushes.  A  heavy  step 
was  coming  along  the  wood-path.  He  held  her 
motionless  and  breathless  in  this  cruel  grip  till  the 
pedestrian  passed.  It  was  Major  Bristow,  his 


THE  COMING  OF  GREEF 'KING     367 

spruce  white  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head,  his  un- 
sullied waistcoat  dappled  with  the  leaf-shadows. 
He  stepped  out  briskly  toward  Damory  Court, 
swinging  his  stick,  all  unconscious  of  the  fierce 
scrutiny  bent  on  him  from  behind  the  dogwoods. 

Greef  King  did  not  withdraw  his  hand  till  the 
steps  had  died  in  the  distance.  When  he  did,  he 
clenched  his  fist  and  shook  it  in  the  air.  "  There  he 
goes!"  he  said  with  bitter  hatred.  "  Yer  noble 
friend  that  sent  me  up  for  six  years  t'  break  my 
heart  on  th'  rock-pile!  Oh,  he's  a  top-notcher,  he 
is!  But  he's  got  Greef  King  to  reckon  with  yit! " 
He  looked  at  her  bale  fully  and  shook  her. 

"  Look-a-yere,"  he  said  in  a  hissing  voice.  '  Ye 
remember  me.  I'm  a  bad  one  ter  fool  with.  Yer 
maw  foun'  that  out,  I  reckon.  Now  ye'll  promise 
me  ye'll  tell  nobody  who  ye've  seen.  I'm  only  a 
tramp;  d'ye  hear?  "  He  shook  her  roughly. 

Rickey's  fingers  and  teeth  were  clenched  hard  and 
she  said  no  word.  He  shook  her  again  viciously, 
the  blood  pouring  into  his  scarred  face.  '  Ye 
snivelin'  brat,  ye !  "  he  snarled.  "  I'll  show  yer !  " 
He  began  to  drag  her  after  him  through  the  bushes. 
A  few  yards  and  they  were  on  the  brink  of  the 
headlong  ugly  chasm  of  Lovers'  Leap.  She  cast 
one  desperate  look  about  her  and  shut  her  eyes. 
Catching  her  about  the  waist  he  leaned  over  and 
held  her  out  in  mid-air,  as  if  she  had  been  a  kitten. 
"  Ye  ain't  seen  me,  hev  yer?  Promise,  or  over  ye 


368      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

go.  Ye  won't  look  so  pretty  when  yere  layin' 
down  there  on  them  rocks ! " 

The  child's  face  was  paper-white  and  she  had  be- 
gun to  tremble  like  a  leaf,  but  her  eyes  remained 
closed. 

"  One  —  two  — "  he  counted  deliberately. 

Her  eyes  opened.  She  turned  one  shuddering 
glance  below,  then  her  resolution  broke.  She 
clutched  his  arm  and  broke  into  wild  supplications. 
"  I  promise,  I  promise !  "  she  cried.  "  Oh,  don't  let 
go !  I  promise !  " 

He  set  her  on  the  solid  ground  and  released  her, 
looking  at  her  with  a  sneering  laugh.  "  Now  we'll 
see  ef  ye  belong  here  or  up  ter  Heirs-Hal f- Acre," 
he  said.  "  Fine  folks  keeps  their  promises,  I've 
heerd  tell." 

Rickey  looked  at  him  a  moment  shaking;  then 
she  burst  into  a  passion  of  sobs  and  with  her  face 
averted  ran  from  him  like  a  deer  through  the 
bushes. 


CHAPTER  XLII 

IN    THE    RAIN 

SHIRLEY  stood  looking  out  at  the  rain.  It  wa,° 
falling  in  no  steady  downpour  which  held  forth 
promise  of  ending,  but  with  a  gentle  constancy 
that  gave  the  hills  a  look  of  sodden  discomfort 
and  made  disconsolate  miry  pools  by  the  roadside. 
The  clouds  were  not  too  thick,  however,  to  let 
through  a  dismal  gray  brightness  that  shone  on 
the  foliage  and  touched  with  glistening  lines  of 
high-light  the  draggled  tufts  of  the  soaked  blue- 
grass.  Now  and  then,  across  the  dripping  fields, 
fraying  skeins  of  mist  wandered,  to  lie  curdled  in 
the  flooded  hollows  where,  here  and  there,  cattle 
stood  lowing  at  intervals  in  a  mournful  key. 

The  indoors  had  become  impossible  to  her.  She 
was  sick  of  trying  to  read,  sick  of  the  endless  pac- 
ings and  purposeless  invention  of  needless  tasks. 
She  wanted  movement,  the  cobwebby  mist  about  her 
knees,  the  wet  rain  in  her  face.  She  ran  up-stairs 
and  came  down  clad  in  a  close  scarlet  jersey,  with 
leather  gaiters  and  a  soft  hat. 

Emmaline  saw  her  thus  accoutered  with  disap- 
369 


370      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

proval.  "  Lawdy-mercy,  chile!"  she  urged;  "you 
ain't  goin'  out  ?  It's  rainin'  cats  en  dawgs !  " 

"  I'm  neither  sugar  nor  salt,  Emmaline,"  re- 
sponded Shirley  listlessly,  dragging  on  her  rain-coat, 
"  and  the  walk  will  do  me  good." 

On  the  sopping  lawn  she  glanced  up  at  her 
mother's  window.  Since  the  night  of  the  ball  her 
own  panging  self -consciousness  had  overlaid  the 
fine  and  sensitive  association  between  them.  She 
had  been  full  of  a  horrible  feeling  that  her  face  must 
betray  her  and  the  cause  of  her  loss  of  spirits  be 
guessed. 

*  Her  mother  had,  in  fact,  been  troubled  by  this, 
but  was  far  from  guessing  the  truth.  A  some- 
what long  indisposition  had  followed  her  first  sight 
of  Valiant,  and  she  had  not  witnessed  the  tourna- 
ment. She  had  hung  upon  Shirley's  description  of 
it,  however,  with  an  excited  interest  that  the  other 
was  later  to  translate  in  the  light  of  her  own  dis- 
covery. If  the  thought  had  flitted  to  her  that  fate 
might  hold  something  deeper  than  friendship  in 
Shirley's  acquaintance  with  Valiant,  it  had  been  of 
the  vaguest.  His  choice  of  her  as  Queen  of  Beauty 
had  seemed  a  natural  homage  to  that  swift  and 
unflinching  act  of  hers  which  had  saved  his  life. 
There  was  in  her  mind  a  more  obvious  explanation 
of  Shirley's  altered  demeanor.  "  Perhaps  it's 
Chilly  Lusk,"  she  had  said  to  herself.  "  Have  they 


IN  THE  RAIN     -  371 

had  a  foolish  quarrel,  I  wonder?     Ah,  well,  in  her 
own  time  she  will  tell  me." 

There  was  some  relief  to  Shirley's  overcharged 
feelings  in  the  very  discomfort  of  the  drenched 
weather:  the  sucking  pull  of  the  wet  clay  on  her 
boots  and  the  flirt  of  the  drops  on  her  cheeks  and 
hair.  She  thrust  her  dog-skin  gloves  into  her  pocket 
and  held  her  arms  outstretched  to  let  the  wind  blow 
through  her  ringers.  The  moisture  clung  in  damp 
wreaths  to  her  hair  and  rolled  in  great  drops  down 
her  coat  as  she  went. 

The  wildest,  most  secluded  walks  had  always 
drawn  her  most  and  she  instinctively  chose  one  of 
these  to-day.  It  was  the  road  whereon  squatted 
Mad  Anthony's  whitewashed  cabin.  "  Dah's 
er  man  gwine  look  in  dem  eyes,  honey,  en  gwine 
make  'em  cry  en  cry."  She  had  forgotten  the  in- 
cident of  that  day,  when  he  had  read  her  fortune, 
but  now  the  quavering  prophecy  came  back  to  her 
with  a  shivering  sense  of  reality.  "  Fo'  dah's  fiah 
en  she  am'  afeah'd,  en  dah's  watah  en  she  am' 
afeah'd.  Et's  de  thing  whut  eat  de  ha'at  outen  de 
breas' —  dat  whut  she  afeah'd  of !  "  If  it  were  only 
fire  and  water  that  threatened  her! 

She  struck  her  hands  together  with  an  inarticulate 
cry.  She  remembered  the  laugh  in  Valiant's  eyes 
as  they  had  planted  the  roses,  the  characteristic  ges- 


372      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

ture  with  which  he  tossed  the  waving  hair  from  his 
forehead  —  how  she  had  named  the  ducks  and  the 
peacock  and  chosen  the  spots  for  his  flowers;  and 
she  smiled  for  such  memories,  even  in  the  stabbing 
knowledge  that  these  dear  trivial  things  could  mean 
nothing  to  her  in  the  future.  She  tried  to  realize 
that  he  was  gone  from  her  life,  that  he  was  the 
one  man  on  earth  whom  to  marry  would  be  to 
strike  to  the  heart  her  love  and  loyalty  to  her 
mother,  and  she  said  this  over  and  over  to  herself 
in  varying  phrases : 

"  You  can't !  No  matter  how  much  you  love 
him,  you  can't!  His  father  deliberately  ruined 
your  mother's  life  —  your  own  mother!  It's  bad 
enough  to  love  him  —  you  can't  help  that.  But 
you  can  help  marrying  him.  You  would  hate  your- 
self. You  can  never  kiss  him  again,  or  feel  his 
arms  around  you.  You  can't  touch  his  hand. 
You  mustn't  even  see  him.  Not  if  it  breaks  your 
heart  —  as  your  mother's  heart  was  broken !  " 

She  had  turned  into  an  unbeaten  way  that  ambled 
from  the  road  through  a  track  of  tall  oaks  and  pines, 
scarce  more  than  a  bridle-path,  winding  aimlessly 
through  bracken-strewn  depths  so  dense  that  even 
the  wild-roses  had  not  found  them.  In  her  child- 
ish hurts  she  had  always  fled  to  the  companionship 
of  the  trees.  She  had  known  them  every  one  — 
the  black-gum  and  pale  dogwood  and  gnarled 
hickory,  the  prickly-balled  "  button-wood,"  the 


IN  THE  RAIN     •  373 

lowly  mulberry  and  the  majestic  red  oak  and  walnut. 
They  had  seemed  friendly  and  pitying  counselors, 
standing  about  her  with  arms  intertwined.  Now, 
with  the  rain  weeping  in  soughing  gusts  through 
them,  they  offered  her  no  comfort.  She  suddenly 
threw  herself  face  down  on  the  soaked  moss. 

"  Oh,  God !  "  she  cried.  "  I  love  him  so !  And 
I  had  only  that  one  evening.  It  doesn't  seem  just. 
If  I  could  only  have  him,  and  suffer  some  other 
way!  He's  suffering,  too,  and  it  isn't  our  fault! 
We  neither  of  us  harmed  any  one!  He  isn't  re- 
sponsible for  what  his  father  did  —  why,  he  hardly 
knew  him!  Oh,  God,  why  must  it  be  so  hard  for 
us?  Millions  of  other  people  love  each  other  and 
nothing  separates  them  like  this!  " 

Shirley's  warm  breath  made  a  little  fog  against 
the  star-eyed  moss.  She  was  scarcely  conscious 
of  her  wet  and  clinging  clothing,  and  the  soaked 
strands  of  her  hair.  She  was  so  wrapped  in  her 
desolation  that  she  no  longer  heard  the  sound  of 
the  persevering  rain  and  the  wet  swishing  of  the 
bushes  —  parting  now  to  a  hurried  step  that  fell 
almost  without  sound  on  the  spongy  forest  soil. 
She  started  up  suddenly  to  see  Valiant  before 
her. 

He  was  in  a  somewhat  battered  walking  suit  of 
brown  khaki,  with  a  leather  belt  and  a  felt  hat 
whose  brim,  stiff  with  the  wet,  was  curved  down 
visor-wise  over  his  brow.  In  an  instant  he  had 


374      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

drawn  her  upright,  and  they  stood,  looking  at  each 
other,  drenched  and  trembling. 

"  How  can  you  ?  "  he  said  with  a  roughness  that 
sounded  akin  to  anger.  "  Here  in  this  atrocious 
weather  —  like  this !  "  he  laid  a  hand  on  her  arm. 
"  You're  wet  through." 

"I  —  don't  mind  the  rain,"  she  answered,  draw- 
ing away,  yet  feeling  with  a  guilty  thrill  the  master- 
fulness of  his  tone,  as  well  as  its  real  concern.  "  I'm 
often  wet." 

His  gaze  searched  her  face,  feature  by  feature, 
noting  her  pallor,  the  blue-black  shadows  beneath 
her  eyes,  the  caught  breath,  uneven  like  a  child's 
from  crying.  He  still  held  her  hands  in  his. 

"  Shirley,"  he  said,  "  I  know  what  you  intended 
to  tell  me  by  those  flowers  —  I  went  to  St.  Andrew's 
that  night,  in  the  dark,  after  I  read  your  letter. 
Who  told  you  ?  Your  —  mother  ?  " 

"  No,  no !  "  she  cried.  "  She  would  never  have 
told  me ! " 

His  face  lighted.  With  an  irresistible  movement 
he  caught  her  to  him.  "  Shirley !  "  he  cried.  "  It 
shan't  be!  It  shan't,  I  tell  you!  You  can't  break 
our  lives  in  two  like  this !  It's  unthinkable." 

"  No,  no !  "  she  said  piteously,  pushing  him  from 
her.  "  You  don't  understand.  You  are  a  man, 
and  men  —  can't." 

"  I  do  understand,"  he  insisted.  "  Oh,  my  dar- 
ling, my  darling!  It  isn't  right  for  that  spectral 


IN  THE  RAIN      §  375 

thing  to  come  between  us !  Why,  it  belonged  to  a 
past  generation !  However  sad  the  outcome  of  that 
duel,  it  held  no  dishonor.  I  know  only  too  well 
the  ruin  it  brought  my  father!  It's  enough  that  it 
wrecked  three  lives.  It  shan't  rise  again,  like 
Banquo's  ghost  to  haunt  ours!  I  know  what  you 
think  —  I  would  love  you  the  more,  if  I  could  love 
you  more,  for  that  sweet  loyalty  —  but  it's  wrong, 
dear.  It's  wrong !  " 

"  It's  the  only  way." 

"  Listen.  Your  mother  loves  you.  If  she  knew 
you  loved  me,  she  would  bear  anything  rather  than 
have  you  suffer  like  this.  You  say  she  wouldn't 
have  told  you  herself.  Why,  if  my  father — " 

She  tore  her  hands  from  his  and  faced  him  with 
a  cry.  "  Ah,  that  is  it !  You  knew  your  father  so 
little.  He  was  never  to  you  what  she  is  to  me. 
Why,  I've  been  all  the  life  she  has  had.  I  remem- 
ber when  she  mended  my  dolls,  and  held  me  when 
I  had  scarlet  fever,  and  sang*  me  the  songs  the  trees 
sang  to  themselves  at  night.  I  said  my  prayers  at 
her  knee  till  I  was  t\velve  years  old.  We  were 
never  apart  a  day  till  I  went  away  to  school." 

She  paused,  breathless. 

"  Doesn't  that  prove  what  I  say  ?  "  he  said,  bend- 
ing toward  her.  "  She  loves  you  far  better  than 
herself.  She  wants  your  happiness." 

"  Could  that  mean  hers  ?  "  she  demanded,  her 
bosom  heaving.  "  To  see  us  together  —  always  — 


376      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

always !  To  be  reminded  in  everything  —  the  linv.3 
of  your  face  —  the  tones  of  your  voice,  maybe, — 
of  that!  Oh,  you  don't  know  how  women  feel  — 
how  they  remember  —  how  they  grieve !  I've  gone 
over  all  you  can  say  till  my  soul  cries  out,  but  it 
can't  change  it.  It  can't !  " 

Valiant  felt  as  though  he  were  battering  with 
bruised  knuckles  at  a  stone  wall.  A  helpless  anger 
simmered  in  him.  "  Suppose,"  he  said  bitterly, 
"  that  your  mother  one  day,  perhaps  after  long 
years,  learns  of  your  sacrifice.  She  is  likely  to  guess 
in  the  end,  I  think.  Will  it  add  to  her  pleasure, 
do  you  fancy,  to  discover  that  out  of  this  conception 
of  filial  loyalty — for  it's  that,  I  suppose!  —  you 
have  spoiled  your  own  life?" 

She  shuddered.  "  She  will  never  learn,"  she  said 
brokenly.  "  Oh,  I  know  she  would  not  have  spoken. 
She  would  suffer  anything  for  my  happiness.  But 
I  wouldn't  have  her  bear  any  more  for  my  sake." 

His  anger  faded  suddenly,  and  when  he  looked  at 
her  again,  tears  were  burning  in  his  eyes. 

"Shirley!"  he  said.  "It's  my  heart,  too,  that 
you  are  binding  on  the  wheel !  I  love  you.  I  want 
nothing  but  you!  I'd  rather  beg  my  bread  from 
door  to  door  with  your  hand  in  mine  than  sit  on  a 
throne  without  you  I  What  can  there  be  in  life  for 
me  unless  you  share  it  ?  Think  of  our  love !  Think 
of  the  fate  that  brought  me  here  to  find  you  in  Vir- 
ginia !  Think  of  our  garden  —  where  I  thought  we 


IN  THE  RAIN  377 

would  live  and  work  and  dream,  till  we  were  old 
and  gray  —  together,  darling !  Don't  throw  our 
love  away  like  this !  " 

His  entreaties  left  her  only  whiter,  but  unmoved. 
She  shook  her  head,  gazing  at  him  through  great 
clear  tears  that  welled  over  and  rolled  down  her 
cheeks. 

"  I  can't  fight/'  she  said.  "  I  have  no  strength 
left."  She  put  out  her  hand  as  she  spoke  and 
dropped  it  with  a  little  limp  gesture  that  had  in  it 
tired  despair,  finality  and  hopelessness.  It  caught 
at  his  heart  more  strongly  than  any  words.  He  felt 
a  warm  gush  of  pity  and  tenderness. 

He  took  her  hand  gently  without  speaking,  and 
pressed  it  hard  against  his  lips.  It  seemed  to  him 
very  small  and  cold. 

They  passed  together  through  the  wet  bracken, 
his  strong  arm  guiding  her  over  the  uneven  path,  and 
came  to  the  open  in  silence. 

"  Don't  come  with  me,"  she  said  then,  and  without 
a  backward  glance,  went  rapidly  from  him  down  the 
shimmering  road. 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

THE    EVENING   OF    AN    OLD    SCORE 

RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!  -  -  Major  Bris- 
tow's  ivory-headed  camphor-wood  stick 
thumped  on  the  great  door  of  Damory  Court.  The 
sound  had  a  tang  of  impatience,  for  he  had  used  the 
knocker  more  than  once  without  result.  Now  he 
strode  to  the  end  of  the  porch  and  raised  his  voice 
in  a  stentorian  bellow  that  brought  Uncle  Jefferson 
shuffling  around  the  path  from  the  kitchens  with  all 
the  whites  of  his  eyes  showing. 

"  You  dog-gone  lazy  rascal ! "  thundered  the 
major.  "  What  do  you  mean,  sah,  by  keeping  a  gen- 
tleman cooling  his  heels  on  the  door-step  like  a  tax- 
collector?  Where's  your  master?  " 

"  Fo'  de  Lawd,  Major,  Ah  ain'  seen  Mars'  John 
sence  dis  mawnin'.  Staht  out  aftah  breakfus'  en 
he  nevah  showed  up  ergin  et  all.  Yo'  reck'n  whut 
de  mattah,  suh  ?  "  he  added  anxiously.  "  'Peahs  lak 
sumpin'  preyin'  on  he  mind.  Don'  seem  er  bit  hese'f 
lately/' 

"H-m-m!"  The  major  looked  thoughtful. 
"Isn't  he  well?" 

378 


AN  OLD  SCORE  J  379 

"  No,  suh.  Ain'  et  no  mor'n  er  hummin'-buhd 
dese  las'  few  days.  Jes'  hangs  eroun'  lonesome  lak. 
Don'  laugh  no  mo',  don'  sing  no  mo'.  Ain'  play 
de  pianny  sence  de  day  aftah  de  ball.  Me  en  Daph 
moght'ly  pestered  'bout  him." 

"Pshaw!"  said  the  major.  "Touch  of  spring 
fever,  I  reckon.  Aunt  Daph  feeds  him  too  well. 
Give  him  less  fried  chicken  and  more  ash-cake  and 
buttermilk.  Make  him  some  juleps." 

The  old  negro  shook  his  head.  "  Moghty  neah 
use  up  all  dat  mint-baid  Ah  foun',"  he  said,  "  but 
am'  do  no  good.  Majah,  Ah's  sho'  'feahed  sumpin' 
gwineter  happen." 

"  Nonsense !  "  the  major  sniffed.  "  What  fool 
idea's  got  under  your  wool  now  ?  Been  seeing  Mad 
Anthony  again,  I'll  bet  a  dollar." 

Uncle  Jefferson  swallowed  once  or  twice  with 
seeming  difficulty  and  turned  the  gravel  with  his  toe. 
"  Dat's  so,"  he  said  gloomily.  "  Ah  done  see  de 
old  man  de  yuddah  day  'bout  et.  Ant'y,  he  know ! 
He  see  trouble  er-comin'  en  trouble  er-gwine.  Dat 
same  night  de  hoss-shoe  drop  offen  de  stable  do', 
en  dis  ve'y  mawnin'  er  buhd  done  fly  inter  de 
house.  Das'  er  mighty  bad  hoodoo,  er  mighty  bad 
hoodoo !  " 

"  Shucks !  "  said  the  major.  "  You're  as  loony 
as  old  Anthony,  with  your  infernal  signs.  If 
your  Mars'  John's  been  out  all  day  I  reckon  he'll 
turn  up  before  long.  I'll  wait  for  him  a  while." 


380      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

He  started  in,  but  paused  on  the  threshold.  "  Did 
you  say  —  ah  —  that  mint  was  all  gone,  Unc'  Jef- 
ferson?" 

Uncle  Jefferson's  lips  relaxed  in  a  wide  grin. 
"Ah  reck'n  dah's  er  few  stray  sprigs  lef,  suh. 
Step  in  en  mek  yo'se'f  et  home.  Ef  Mars'  John 
see  yo',  he  be  mought'ly  hoped  up.  Ah  gwineter 
mix  yo'  dat  julep  in  two  shakes ! " 

He  disappeared  around  the  corner  of  the  porch 
and  the  major  strode  into  the  hall,  threw  his  gray 
slouch  hat  on  the  table,  and  sat  down. 

It  was  quiet  and  peaceful,  that  ancient  hall.  He 
fell  to  thinking  of  the  many  times,  of  old,  when  he 
had  sat  there.  The  house  was  the  same  again,  now. 
It  had  waked  from  a  thirty-years'  slumber  to  a  re- 
newed prime.  Only  he  had  lived  on  meanwhile  and 
now  was  old!  He  sighed. 

How  gay  the  place  had  been  the  night  of  the 
ball,  with  the  lights  and  roses  and  music!  He  re- 
membered what  the  doctor  had  said  about  Valiant 
and  Shirley  —  it  had  lain  ever  since  in  his  mind,  a 
painful  speculation.  The  recollection  roused  an- 
other thought  from  which  he  shrank.  He  stirred 
uneasily.  What  on  earth  kept  that  old  darky  so 
long  over  that  julep? 

A  slight  noise  made  him  turn  his  head.  But 
nothing  moved.  Only  a  creak  of  the  woodwork,  he 
thought,  and  settled  back  again  in  his  chair. 


AN  OLD  SCORE  381 

It  was,  in  fact,  a  stealthy  footfall  he  had  heard. 
It  came  from  the  library,  where  a  shabby  figure 
crouched,  listening,  in  the  corner  behind  the  tapes- 
tried screen  —  a  man  evilly  clad,  with  a  scarred 
cheek. 

It  had  been  with  no  good  purpose  that  Greef 
King  had  dogged  the  major  these  last  days.  He 
hugged  a  hot  hatred  grown  to  white  heat  in  six 
years  of  prison  labor  within  bleak  walls  at  the  click- 
ing shoe-machine,  or  with  the  chain-gang  on  blazing 
or  frosty  turnpikes.  He  had  slunk  behind  him  that 
afternoon,  creeping  up  the  drive  under  cover  of  the 
bushes,  and  while  the  other  talked  with  Uncle  Jef- 
ferson, had  skirted  the  house  and  entered  from  the 
farther  side,  through  an  open  French  window. 
Now  as  he  peered  from  behind  the  screen,  a  poker, 
snatched  from  the  fireplace,  was  in  his  hand.  His 
furtive  gaze  fell  upon  a  morocco-covered  case  on 
a  commode  by  his  side.  He  lifted  its  lid  and  his 
eyes  narrowed  as  he  saw  that  it  held  a  pistol.  He 
set  down  the  poker  noiselessly  and  took  the  weapon. 
He  tilted  it  —  it  was  rusted,  but  there  were  loads 
in  the  chambers.  He  crouched  lower,  with  a  whis- 
pered curse :  the  major  was  coming  into  the  library, 
but  not  alone  —  the  old  nigger  was  with  him! 

Uncle  Jefferson  bore  a  tray  with  a  frosted  goblet 
over  whose  rim  peeped  green  leaves  and  which 
spread  abroad  an  ambrosial  odor,  which  the  major 


382      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

sniffed  approvingly  as  the  other  set  the  burden  on 
the  desk  at  his  elbow. 

"  Majah,"  said  the  latter  solemnly,  "  you  reck'n 
Mars'  John  en  Miss  Shirley  — " 

"  Good  lord !  "  said  the  major,  wheeling  to  the 
small  ormolu  clock  on  the  desk.  "  It's  'most  four 
o'clock.  Haven't  you  any  idea  where  he's  gone  ?  " 

"  No,  suh,  less'n  he's  gwineter  look  ovah  dem 
walnut  trees.  Whut  Ah's  gwine  ter  say  —  yo' 
reck'n  Mars'  John  en  Miss  — " 

"  Walnut  trees  ?     Is  he  going  to  sell  them  ?  " 

"  Tree  man  come  f'om  up  Norf  somewhah  ter 
see  erbout  et  yistidday.  Yas,  suh.  Yo'  reck'n 
Mars'  John  en  — " 

"  Nice  pot  of  money  tied  up  in  that  timber !  He 
saw  it  right  off.  You're  a  lucky  old  rascal  to  have 
him  for  a  master." 

"  Hyuh,  hyuh ! "  agreed  Uncle  Jefferson. 
"  Dam'ry  Co'ot  er  heap  bettah  dan  drivin'  er  ol' 
stage  ter  de  deepo  fer  drummahs  en  lightnin'-rod 
agents.  Ah  sho'  do  pray  de  Good  Man  ter  mek 
Mars'  John  happy,"  he  added  soberly,  "  but  Ah's 
mought'ly  'sturbed  in  mah  mind  —  mought'ly 
•sturbed!" 

The  hidden  watcher  waited  motionless.  From 
where  he  stood  he  could  look  through  the  rear  win- 
dow. He  waited  till  he  saw  the  negro's  bent 
figure  disappear  into  the  kitchens.  Then  he  noise- 
lessly lifted  himself  upright,  and  resting  the  pistol 


AN  OLD  SCORE   -  383 

on  the  screen-top,  took  deliberate  aim  and  pulled  the 
trigger. 

The  hammer  clicked  sharply  on  the  worthless 
thirty-year  old  cartridge,  and  the  major  sprang 
around  with  an  exclamation,  as  with  an  oath,  the 
other  dashed  the  screen  aside  and  again  pulled  the 
trigger. 

"  You  infernal  murderer!"  cried  the  major.  It 
was  all  he  said,  for,  as  he  swung  his  chair  up,  the 
one-time  bully  of  Hell's-Half-Acre  rushed  in  and 
struck  him  a  single  sledge-hammer  blow  with  the 
clubbed  pistol.  It  fell  full  on  the  major's  temple, 
and  the  heavy  iron  crashed  through. 

Greef  King  stood  an  instant  breathing  hard,  then, 
without  withdrawing  his  eyes  from  the  prostrate 
form,  his  hand  groped  for  the  cold  goblet  and  lift- 
ing it  to  his  lips  he  drained  it  to  its  dregs. 
'l  There!"  he  said.  "There's  my  six-years'  debt 
paid  in  full,  ye  lily-livered,  fancy-weskited  hellion! 
Take  that  from  the  mayor  of  the  Dome !  " 

There  was  a  man's  step  on  the  gravel  and  the 
sudden  bark  of  a  dog.  The  pistol  fell  from  his 
hand.  He  stole  on  tiptoe  along  the  corridor  and 
leaped  through  the  French  window.  As  he  dashed 
across  the  lawn,  a  startled  cry  came  from  the  house 
behind  him. 

No  human  eye  had  seen  him,  but  he  had  been 
observed  for  all  that.  Run  your  best  now,  Greef 
King!  Double  and  turn  how  you  will,  there  is  a 


384      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

swifter  Nemesis  pursuing.  It  is  only  a  dog,  and 
not  a  big  one  at  that,  but  it  is  of  a  faithful  breed 
that  knows  neither  fear  nor  quarter.  Like  white 
lightning,  without  a  bark  or  growl,  Chum  launched 
himself  on  the  fleeing  quarry,  and  in  the  shadow  of 
the  trees  his  teeth  met  in  the  ragged  trousers-leg. 

Kicking,  beating  with  his  hands  at  the  dragging 
weight,  the  man  dashed  on.  Not  till  they  had 
reached  the  hemlocks  was  that  fierce  grip  broken, 
and  then  k  was  with  a  tearing  of  flesh  and  sinew. 
Panting,  snarling  with  rage  and  pain,  the  man  seized 
a  fallen  branch  and  stood  at  bay,  striking  out  with 
vicious  sweeping  blows.  But  the  bulldog,  the 
hair  bristling  up  on  his  thick  neck,  his  red-rimmed 
eyes  fiery,  circled  beyond  reach  of  the  flail,  crouch- 
ing for  another  spring. 

Again  he  launched  himself,  and  the  man,  dodg- 
ing, blundered  full-face  into  a  thorn-bush.  The 
sharp  spines  slashed  his  forehead  and  the  starting 
blood  blinded  him,  so  that  he  ran  without  sense  of 
direction  —  straight  upon  the  declivity  of  Lovers' 
Leap. 

He  was  toppling  on  its  edge  before  he  cotild  stop, 
and  then  threw  himself  backward,  clutching  des- 
perately at  the  slippery  fern-covered  rock,  Reeling 
his  feet  dangling  over  nothing.  He  dug  his  fingers 
into  the  yielding  soil  and  with  knee  and  elbow  strove 
frenziedly  to  crawl  to  fehe  path. 


AN  OLD  SCORE  385 

But  the  white  bulldog  was  upon  him.  The 
clamping  teeth  met  in  the  striving  fingers,  and  with 
a  scream  of  pain  Greef  King's  hold  let  go  and 
dog  and  man  went  down  together. 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

THE   MAJOR   BREAKS   SILENCE 

TEN  minutes  later  a  motor  was  hurling  itself 
along  the  Red  Road  to  the  village.  The  doc- 
tor was  in  his  office  and  no  time  was  lost  in  the 
return.  En  route  they  passed  Judge  Chalmers  driv- 
ing, and  seeing  the  flying  haste,  he  turned  his  sweat- 
ing pair  and  lashed  them  after  the  car. 

So  that  when  the  major  finally  opened  his  eyes 
from  the  big  leather  couch,  he  looked  on  the 
faces  of  two  of  his  oldest  friends.  Recollection  and 
understanding  seemed  to  come  at  once. 

"Well  —  Southall?" 

The  doctor's  hand  closed  over  the  white  one  on 
the  settee.  He  did  not  answer,  but  his  chin  was 
quivering  and  he  was  winking  fast. 

"How  long?"  asked  the  major  after  a  lengthy 
minute. 

"  Maybe  —  maybe  an  hour,  Bristow.  Maybe 
not." 

The  major  winced  and  shut  his  eyes,  but  when 
the  doctor,  reaching  swiftly  for  a  phial  on  the  table, 
turned  again,  it  was  to  find  that  look  once  more  on 
him,  now  in  yearning  appeal.  "  Southall,"  he  said, 

386 


THE  MAJOR  BREAKS  SILENCE     387 

"  send  for  Judith.  I  —  I  must  see  her.  There's 
time." 

The  judge  started  up.  "  I'll  bring  her,"  he  said, 
and  his  voice  had  all  the  tenderness  of  a  woman's. 
"  My  carriage  is  at  the  door  and  with  those  horses 
she  ought  to  be  here  in  twenty  minutes."  He 
leaned  over  the  couch.  "  Bristow,"  he  said, 
"  would  you  —  would  you  like  me  to  send  for  the 
rector?" 

The  major  smiled,  a  little  wistfully,  and  shook  his 
head.  He  lay  silent  for  a  while  after  the  judge  had 
gone  out  —  he  seemed  housing  his  strength  —  while 
the  ormolu  clock  on  the  desk  ticked  ominously  on, 
and  the  doctor  busied  himself  with  the  glasses  be- 
side him.  Presently  he  said  huskily : 

"  You've  had  a  bad  fall,  Bristow.  You  were 
dizzy,  I  reckon." 

"  Dizzy ! ';  echoed  the  major  with  feeble  asperity. 
"  It  was  Greef  King." 

"Greef  King!     Good  God!" 

"  He  was  hiding  behind  the  screen.  He  struck 
me  with  something.  He  swore  at  his  trial  he'd  get 
me.  I  was  —  a  fool  not  to  have  remembered  his 
time  was  out." 

A  look,  wolf-like  and  grim,  had  sprung  into  the 
doctor's  face.  His  eyes  searched  the  room,  and 
he  crossed  the  floor  and  picked  up  something  from 
the  rug.  He  looked  at  it  a  moment,  then  thrust 
it  hastily  into  his  breast  pocket. 


388      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"I  —  remember  now.  It  was  a  pistol.  He 
snapped  it  twice,  but  it  missed  fire." 

"He  can't  hide  where  we'll  not  find  him !  "  The 
doctor  spoke  with  low  but  terrible  energy. 

"  Not  that  I  care  —  myself,"  said  the  major  diffi- 
cultly. "  But  I  reckon  he'd  better  be  settled  with, 
or  he'll  —  be  killing  some  one  worth  while  one  of 
these  days." 

A  big  tear  suddenly  loosed  itself  from  the  doctor's 
eyelid  and  rolled  down  his  cheek,  and  he  turned 
hastily  away. 

"  There's  no  call  to  feel  bad,"  said  the  major 
grufHy.  "  I've  sort  of  been  a  thorn-in-the-flesh  to 
you,  Southall.  We  always  rowed,  somehow,  and 
yet-" 

The  doctor  choked  and  cleared  his  throat. 

"  I  reckon,"  the  major  murmured  with  a  faint 
smile,  "  you  won't  get  quite  so  much  fun  out  of 
Chalmers  —  and  the  rest.  They  never  did  rise  to 
you  like  I  did." 

A  little  later  he  asked  for  the  restorative.  "  Ten 
minutes  gone,"  he  said  then.  "  Chalmers  ought  to 
be  at  Rosewood  by  now  .  .  .  what  a  fool  way  to 
go  —  like  this.  But  it  wasn't  —  apoplexy,  Southall, 
anyway." 

At  the  sound  of  wheels  on  the  drive,  Valiant 
went  out  quietly.  Huddled  in  a  corner  of  the  hall 
were  Uncle  Jefferson  and  Aunt  Daphne,  with  Jere- 


THE  MAJOR  BREAKS  SILENCE     389 

boam,  the  major's  body-servant.  Aunt  Daphne, 
her  apron  thrown  over  her  face  was  rocking  to  and 
fro  silently,  and  old  Jeretoam's  head  was  bowed 
on  his  breast.  Valiant  u'ent  quickly  to  the  rear 
of  the  hall.  A  painful  embarrassir,::^  had  come 
to  him  —  a  curious  confusion  miagling  with  a  fas- 
tidious sense  of  shrinking.  How  should  he  meet 
this  woman  who  recoiled  from  the  very  sight  of 
his  face?  In  the  swiftness  of  the  tragic  event  he 
had  forgotten  this.  From  the  background  he  saw 
Judge  Chalmers  lift  down  the  frail  form,  and  sud- 
denly his  heart  leaped.  There  were  two  feminine 
figures ;  Shirley  was  with  her  mother. 

The  doctor  stood  just  inside  the  library  door 
and  Mrs.  Dandridge  went  hastily  toward  him,  her 
light  cane  tapping  through  the  stricken  silence. 
Jereboam  lifted  his  head  and  looked  at  her  pite- 
ously. 

"  Reck'n  Mars'  Monty  cyan'  see  ole  Jerry  now,'5 
he  quavered,  "  but  yo'-all  gib  him  mah  love,  Mis' 
Judith,  and  tell  him — "  His  voice  broke. 

"  Yes,  yes,  Jerry.     I  will." 

The  doctor  dosed  the  door  upon  her  and  came 
to  where  Shirley  waited.  "  Come,  my  dear,"  he 
said,  and  dropped  his  arm  about  her.  "  Let  us  go 
out  to  the  garden." 

As  they  passed  Valiant,  she  held  out  her  hand  to 
him.  There  was  no  word  between  them,  but  as  his 
hand  swallowed  hers,  his  heart  said  to  her,  "  I 


390      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

love  you,  I  love  you!     No  matter  what  is  between 
us,  I  shall  always  love  you !  " 

It  was  wordless,  a  heart-whisper  that  only  love 
itself  could  hear,  and  he  could  read  no  answer  in 
the  deep  pools  of  her  eyes,  heavy  now  with  un- 
shed tears.  But  in  some  subtle  way  this  voiceless 
greeting  comforted  and  lightened  by  a  little  the 
weight  of  dumb  impotence  that  he  had  borne. 

In  the  library,  lighted  so  brightly  by  the  sun- 
light, yet  grave  with  the  hush  of  that  solemn  pres- 
ence, the  major  looked  into  the  face  of  the  woman 
for  whose  coming  he  had  waited  so  anxiously. 

"It's  all  — up,  Judith,"  he  said  faintly.  "I've 
come  to  the  jumping-off  place." 

She  looked  at  him  whitely.  "  Monty,  Monty !  " 
she  cried.  "  Don't  leave  me  this  way !  I  always 
thought  — " 

He  guessed  what  she  would  have  said.  "  Heaven 
knows  you're  needed  more  than  me,  Judith.  After 
all,  I  reckon  when  my  time  had  to  come  I'd  have 
chosen  the  quick  way."  His  voice  trailed  out  and 
he  struggled  for  breath. 

"  Jerry's  in  the  hall,  Monty.  He  asked  me  to 
give  you  his  love." 

"  Poor  old  nigger !  He  —  used  to  tote  me  on  his 
back  when  I  was  a  little  shaver."  There  was  a 
silence.  "  Don't  kneel,  Judith,"  he  said  at  length. 
"  You  will  be  so  tired." 


THE  MAJOR  BREAKS  SILENCE     391 

She  rose  obediently  and  drew  up  a  chair. 
"  Monty,"  she  faltered  tremulously,  "  shall  I  say 
a  prayer?  I've  never  prayed  much  —  my  prayers 
never  seemed  to  get  above  the  ceiling,  somehow. 
But  I'll  — try." 

He  smiled  wanly.  "  I  wouldn't  want  any  better 
than  yours,  Judith.  But  seems  as  if  I'd  been 
prayed  over  enough.  I  reckon  God  Almighty's  like 
anybody  else,  and  doesn't  want  to  be  ding-donged 
all  the  time." 

He  seemed  to  have  been  gathering  his  resolution, 
and  presently  his  hand  fumbled  over  his  breast. 
"  My  wallet;  give  it  to  me."  She  drew  it  from  the 
pocket  and  the  uncertain  fingers  took  out  a  key. 
"  It  opens  a  tin  box  in  my  trunk.  There's  —  a  let- 
ter in  it  for  you."  He  paused  a  moment,  panting : 
"Judith,"  he  said,  "I've  got  to  tell  you,  but  it's 
mighty  hard.  The  letter  .  .  ,  it's  one  Valiant  gave 
me  for  you  —  that  morning,  after  the  duel.  I  — 
never  gave  it  to  you." 

If  she  had  been  white  before,  she  grew  like 
marble  now.  Her  slim  fingers  clutched  the  little 
cane  till  it  rattled  against  the  chair,  and  the  lace  at 
her  throat  shook  with  her  breathing.  "  Yes  — • 
Monty." 

He  lifted  his  hand  with  difficulty  and  put  the  key 
into  hers.  "  The  seal's  still  unbroken,  Judith,"  he 
said,  "  but  I've  kept  it  these  thirty  years." 

She  was  holding  the  key  in  her  hands,  looking 


392      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

down  upon  it.  There  was  a  strained  half -fearful 
wonder  in  her  face.  For  an  instant  she  seemed 
quite  to  have  forgotten  him  in  the  grip  of  some 
swift  and  painful  emotion. 

"  I  loved  you,  Judith ! "  he  stammered  in  an- 
guished appeal.  "  From  the  time  we  were  boy  and 
girl  together,  I  loved  you.  You  never  cared  for  me 

—  Sassoon  and  Valiant  had  the  inside  track.     You 
might  have  loved  me;  but  I  had  no  chance  with 
either  of  them.     Then  came  the  duel.     There  was 
only  Valiant  then.     I  overheard  his  promise  to  you 
that  night,  Judith.     He  had  broken  that!     If  you 
cared  more  for  him  than  for  Sassoon,  you  might 
have   forgiven  him,  and  I   should  have  lost  you! 
I   didn't   want  you   to   call   him  back,   Judith!     I 
wanted  my  chance !     And  so  —  I  took  it.     That's 

—  the   reason,   dear.     It's  —  it's   a  bad   one,   isn't 
it!" 

A  shiver  went  over  her  set  face  —  like  a  breath 
of  wind  over  tall  grass,  and  she  seemed  to  come 
back  from  an  infinite  distance  to  place  and  moment. 
Between  the  curtains  a  white  butterfly  hovered  an 
instant,  and  in  the  yard  she  heard  the  sound  of 
some  winged  thing  fluttering.  The  thought  darted 
to  her  that  it  was  the  sound  of  her  own  dead  heart 
awaking.  She  looked  at  the  key  and  all  at  once  put 
a  hand  to  her  mouth  as  though  to  still  words 
clamoring  there. 

"Judith,"   he   said    tremulously,    between    short 


THE  MAJOR  BREAKS  SILENCE     393 

struggles  for  breath,  "  all  these  years,  after  I  found 
there  was  no  chance  for  me,  I  reckon  I've  —  prayed 
only  one  prayer.  '  God,  let  it  be  Sassoon  that  she 
loved ! '  And  I've  prayed  that  mighty  near  every 
day.  The  thought  that  maybe  it  was  Valiant  has 
haunted  me  like  a  ghost.  You  never  told  —  and  I 
never  dared  ask  you.  Judith — " 

Her  face  was  still  averted,  and  when  she  did  not 
speak  he  turned  his  head  from  her  on  the  pillow, 
with  a  breath  that  was  almost  a  moan.  She  started, 
looking  at  him  an  instant  in  piteous  hesitation,  then 
swiftly  kissed  the  little  key  and  closed  her  hand 
tight  upon  it.  Truth?  She  saw  only  the  pillow 
and  the  graying  face  upon  it!  She  threw  herself 
on  her  knees  by  the  couch  and  laid  her  lips  on  the 
pallid  forehead. 

"  It  —  it  was  Sassoon,  Monty,"  she  said,  and  her 
voice  broke  on  the  first  lie  she  had  ever  told. 

"Thank  God!"  he  gasped.  He  struggled  to 
raise  himself  on  his  elbow,  then  suddenly  the 
strength  faded  out  and  he  settled  back. 

Her  cry  brought  the  doctor,  but  this  time  the 
restorative  seemed  of  no  avail,  and  after  a  time  he 
came  and  touched  her  shoulder.  With  a  last  long 
took  at  the  ash-pale  face  on  the  settee  she  followed 
him  from  the  room.  In  the  yellow  parlor  he  put 
ker  into  a  chair. 

"  No,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  her  look,  "  he  won't 
rouse  again." 


394      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"  I  will  wait,"  she  told  him,  and  he  left  her,  shut- 
ting the  door  with  careful  softness. 

But  the  slight  figure  with  its  silver  hair,  sitting 
there,  was  not  alone.  Ghosts  were  walking  up  and 
down.  Not  the  misty  wraiths  John  Valiant  had  at 
times  imagined  went  flitting  along  the  empty  corri- 
dors, but  faces  very  clear  in  the  sunlight,  that  came 
and  went  with  the  memories  so  long  woven  over  by 
the  shuttle  of  time  —  evoked  now  by  the  touch  of  a 
key  that  her  hand  still  clenched  tightly  in  its  palm. 

There  welled  over  her  in  a  tide  those  days  of 
puzzle,  the  weeks  of  waiting  silence,  the  slow  in- 
exorable months  of  heartache,  the  long  years  that 
had  deepened  the  mystery  of  Beauty  Valiant's  exile. 
In  the  first  shock  of  the  news  that  Sassoon  had  fal- 
len by  his  hand,  she  had  thought  she  could  not  for- 
give him  that  broken  faith.  She  and  his  promise  to 
her  had  not  weighed  in  the  balance  against  his  idea 
of  manly  "  honor " !  But  this  bitterness  had  at 
length  slipped  away.  "  He  will  write,"  she  had 
told  herself,  "  and  explain."  But  no  word  had 
come.  Whispers  had  flitted  to  her  —  the  tale  of 
Sassoon's  intoxication  —  stinging  barbs  that  clung 
to  Beauty  Valiant's  name.  That  these  should  rest 
unanswered  had  filled  her  with  resentment  and 
anger.  Slowly,  but  with  deadly  surety,  had  grown 
the  belief  that  he  no  longer  cared.  In  the  end  there 
had  been  left  her  only  pride  —  the  pride  that  covers 


THE  MAJOR  BREAKS  SILENCE     395 

its  wound  and  smiles.  And  she  had  hidden  her 
wound  with  flowers.  But  in  the  deepest  well  of  her 
heart  her  love  for  him  had  rested  unchanged,  clear 
and  defined  as  a  moss  in  amber,  wrapped  in  that 
mystery  of  silence. 

In  the  little  haircloth  trunk  back  in  her  room  lay 
an  old  scrap-book.  It  held  a  few  leaves  torn  from 
letters  and  many  newspaper  clippings.  From  these 
she  had  known  of  his  work,  his  marriage,  the  great 
commercial  success  for  which  his  name  had  stood  — 
the  name  that  from  the  day  of  his  going,  she  had  so 
seldom  taken  upon  her  lips.  Some  of  them  had 
dealt  with  his  habits  and  idiosyncrasies,  hints  of  an 
altered  personality,  an  aloofness  or  loneliness  that 
had  set  him  apart  and  made  him,  in  a  way,  a 
stranger  to  those  who  should  have  known  him  best. 
Thus  her  mind  had  come  to  hold  a  double  image : 
the  grave  man  these  shadowed  forth,  and  the  man 
she  had  loved,  whose  youthful  face  was  in  the 
locket  she  wore  always  on  her  breast.  It  was  this 
face  that  was  printed  on  her  heart,  and  when  John 
Valiant  had  stood  before  her  on  the  porch  at  Rose- 
wood, it  had  seemed  to  have  risen,  instinct,  from 
that  old  grave. 

He  had  not  kept  silence!  He  had  written!  It 
pealed  through  her  brain  like  a  muffled  bell.  But 
Beauty  Valiant  was  gone  with  her  youth;  in  the 
room  near  by  lay  that  old  companion  who  would 
never  speak  to  her  again,  the  lifelong  friend  — 


396      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

who  had  really   failed  her  thirty  years  ago!  .  .  . 
and  in  a  tin  box  a  mile  away  lay  a  letter.  .  .  . 

"  He  won't  rouse  again/'  the  doctor  had  said,  but 
a  little  later,  as  he  and  Valiant  sat  beside  the  couch, 
the  major  opened  his  eyes  suddenly. 

"Shirley,"  he  whispered.     "Where's  Shirley?" 

She  was  sitting  on  the  porch  just  outside  the  open 
window,  and  when  she  entered,  tears  were  on  her 
face.  The  doctor  drew  back  silently;  but  when 
Valiant  would  have  done  so,  the  major  called  hhn 
nearer. 

"  No,"  he  panted ;  "  I  like  to  see  you  two  to- 
gether." His  voice  was  very  weak  and  tired. 

As  she  leaned  and  touched  his  hand,  he  smiled 
whimsically.  "  It's  mighty  curious,"  he  said,  "  but 
I  can't  get  it  out  of  my  head  that  its  Beauty  Valiant 
and  Judith  that  I'm  really  talking  to.  Foolish  — 
isn't  it  ?  "  But  the  idea  seemed  to  master  him,  and 
presently  he  began  to  call  Shirley  by  her  mother's 
name.  An  odd  youthfulness  crept  into  his  eyes;  a 
subtle  paradoxical  boyishness.  His  cheek  tinged 
with  color.  The  deep  lines  about  his  mouth 
smoothed  miraculously  out. 

"  Judith,"  he  whispered,  "  —  you  —  sure  you  told 
me  the  truth  a  while  ago,  when  you  said  —  you 
said—" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  Shirtey  answered,  putting  her  young 
arm  under  him,  thinking  only  to  soothe  the  anxiety 


THE  MAJOR  BREAKS  SILENCE     397 

that  seemed  vaguely  to  thread  some  vague  hallucina- 
tion. 

He  smiled  again.  "  It  makes  it  easier,"  he  said. 
He  looked  at  Valiant,  his  mind  seeming  to  slip  far- 
ther and  farther  away.  "  Beauty,"  he  gasped, 
"  you  didn't  go  away  after  all,  did  you !  I  dreamed 
it  —  I  reckon.  It'll  be  —  all  right  with  you  both." 

He  sighed  peacefully,  and  his  eyes  turned  to 
Shirley's  and  closed.  "  I'm  —  so  glad,"  he  mut- 
tered, "  so  glad  I  —  didn't  really  do  it,  Judith.  It 
would  have  —  been  the  —  only  —  low-down  thing 
-I —ever  did." 

The  doctor  went  swiftly  to  the  door  and  beckoned 
to  Jereboam.  "  Come  in  now,  Jerry,"  he  said  in  a 
low  voice,  "  quickly." 

The  old  negro  fell  on  his  knees  by  the  couch. 
"  Mars'  Monty !  "  he  cried.  "  Is  you'  gwine  away 
en  leabe  ol'  Jerry  ?  Is  yo'  ?  Mars'  ?  " 

The  cracked  but  loving  voice  struck  across  the 
void  of  the  failing  sense.  For  a  last  time  the  major 
opened  his  misting  eyes. 

"  Jerry,  you  —  black  scoundrel !  "  he  whispered, 
and  Shirley  felt  his  head  grow  heavier  on  her  arm, 
"  I  reckon  it's  —  about  time  —  to  be  going  — 
home!" 


CHAPTER  XLV 

RENUNCIATION 

THE  grim  posse  that  gathered  in  haste  that 
afternoon  did  not  ride  far.  Its  work  had 
been  singularly  well  done.  It  brought  back  to 
Damory  Court,  however,  a  white  bulldog  whose 
broken  leg  made  his  would-be  joyful  bark  trail  into 
a  sad  whimper  as  his  owner  took  him  into  welcom- 
ing arms. 

Next  day  the  major  was  carried  to  his  final  rest 
in  the  myrtled  shadow  of  St.  Andrew's,  At  the 
service  the  old  church  was  crowded  to  its  doors. 
Valiant  occupied  a  humble  place  at  one  side  —  the 
others,  he  knew,  were  older  friends  than  he.  The 
light  of  the  late  afternoon  came  dimly  in  through 
the  stained-glass  windows  and  seemed  to  clothe  with 
subtle  colors  the  voice  of  the  rector  as  he  read  the 
solemn  service.  The  responses  came  brokenly,  and 
there  were  tears  on  many  faces. 

Valiant  could  see  the  side-face  of  the  doctor,  its 
saturnine  grimness  strangely  moved,  and  beyond 
him,  Shirley  and  her  mother.  Many  glanced  at 
them,  for  the  major's  will  had  been  opened  that 
morning  and  few  there  had  been  surprised  to  learn 

398 


RENUNCIATION  399 

that,  save  for  a  life-annuity  for  old  Jereboam,  he  had 
left  everything  he  possessed  to  Shirley.  Miss  Mat- 
tie  Sue  was  beside  them,  and  between,  wan  with 
weeping,  sat  Rickey  Snyder.  Shirley's  arm  lay 
shelteringly  about  the  small  shoulders  as  if  it  would 
stay  the  passion  of  grief  that  from  time  to  time 
shook  them. 

The  evening  before  had  been  further  darkened  by 
the  child's  disappearance  and  Miss  Mattie  Sue  had 
sat  through  half  the  night  in  tearful  anxiety.  It 
was  Valiant  who  had  solved  the  riddle.  In  her  first 
wild  compunction,  Rickey  had  gasped  out  the  story 
of  her  meeting  with  Greef  King,  his  threat  and  her 
own  terrorized  silence,  and  when  he  heard  of  this 
he  had  guessed  her  whereabouts.  He  had  found 
her  at  the  Dome,  in  the  deserted  cabin  from  which 
on  a  snowy  night  six  years  ago,  Shirley  had  rescued 
her.  She  had  fled  there  in  her  shabbiest  dress,  her 
toys  and  trinkets  left  behind,  taking  with  her  only 
a  string  of  blue  glass  beads  that  had  been  Shirley's 
last  Christmas  present. 

"  Let  me  stay ! "  she  had  wailed.  "  I'm  not  fit 
to  live  down  there!  It's  all  my  fault  that  it  hap- 
pened. I  was  a  coward.  I  ought  to  stay  here  in 
Hell's-Half-Acre  forever  and  ever!"  Valiant  had 
carried  her  back  in  his  arms  down  the  mountain  — 
she  had  been  too  spent  to  walk. 

He  thought  of  this  now  as  he  saw  that  arm  about 
the  child  in  that  protective,  almost  motherly  gesture. 


400      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

It  made  his  own  heartache  more  unbearable.  Such 
a  little  time  ago  he  had  felt  that  arm  about  him ! 

He  leaned  his  hot  head  against  the  cool  plastered 
wall,  trying  to  keep  his  mind  on  the  solemn  read- 
ing. But  Shirley's  voice  and  laugh  seemed  to  be 
running  eerily  through  the  chanting  lines,  and  her 
face  shut  out  pulpit  and  lectern.  It  swept  over  him 
suddenly  that  each  abominable  hour  could  but  make 
the  situation  more  impossible  for  them  both.  He 
had  seen  her  as  she  entered  the  church,  had  thought 
her  even  paler  than  in  the  wood,  the  bluish  shadows 
deeper  under  her  eyes.  Those  delicate  charms  were 
in  eclipse. 

And  it  was  he  who  was  to  blame! 

It  came  to  him  with  a  stab  of  enlightenment.  He 
had  been  thinking  only  of  himself  all  the  while. 
But  for  her,  it  was  his  presence  that  had  now  be- 
come the  unbearable  thing.  A  cold  sweat  broke  on 
his  forehead.  "  .  .  .  for  I  am  a  stranger  with  thee, 
and  a  sojourner:  as  all  my  fathers  were.  O  spare 
me  a  little,  that  I  may  recover  my  strength  before  I 
go  hence.  ..."  The  intoning  voice  fell  dully  on 
his  ears. 

To  go  away !  To  pass  out  of  her  life,  to  a  future 
empty  of  her?  How  could  he  do  that?  When  he 
had  parted  from  her  in  the  rain  he  had  felt  a  frenzy 
of  obstinacy.  It  had  seemed  so  clear  that  the  bar- 
rier must  in  the  end  yield  before  their  love.  He 
had  never  thought  of  surrender.  Now  he  told  him- 


RENUNCIATION  401 

self  that  flight  was  all  that  was  left  him.  She  — 
her  happiness  —  nothing  else  mattered.  Damory 
Court  and  its  future  —  the  plans  he  had  made  —  the 
Valiant  name  —  in  that  clarifying  instant  he  knew 
that  all  these,  from  that  May  day  on  the  Red  Road, 
had  clung  about  her.  She  had  been  the  inspiration 
of  all. 

"Lead,  kindly  Light,  amid   th'   encircling  gloom — " 

The  voices  of  the  unvested  choir  rose  clearly  and 
some  one  at  his  side  was  whispering  that  this  had 
been  the  major's  favorite  hymn.  But  he  scarcely 
heard. 

When  the  service  was  ended  the  people  filled  the 
big  yard  while  the  last  reverent  words  were  spoken 
at  the  grave.  Valiant,  standing  with  the  rest,  saw 
Shirley,  with  her  mother  and  the  doctor,  pass  out  of 
the  gate.  She  was  not  looking  toward  him.  A 
mist  was  before  his  eyes  as  they  drove  away,  and 
the  vision  of  her  remained  wavering  and  indistinct 
—  a  pale  blurred  face  under  shining  hair. 

He  realized  after  a  time  that  the  yard  was  empty 
and  the  sexton  was  locking  the  church  door.  He 
went  slowly  to  the  gate,  and  just  outside  some  one 
spoke  to  him.  It  was  Chisholm  Lusk.  They  had 
not  met  since  the  night  of  the  ball.  Even  in  his 
own  preoccupation,  Valiant  noted  that  Lusk's  face 
seemed  to  have  lost  its  exuberant  youthfulness.  It 
was  worn  as  if  with  sleeplessness,  and  had  a  look  of 


402       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

suffering  that  touched  him.  And  all  at  once,  while 
they  stood  looking  at  each  other,  Valiant  knew 
what  the  other  had  waited  to  say. 

"  I  won't  beat  about  the  bush,"  said  Lusk  stam- 
mering. "  I've  got  to  ask  you  something.  I  reckon 
you've  guessed  that  I  —  that  Shirley  — " 

Valient  touched  the  young  fellow's  arm.  "  Yes," 
he  said,  "  I  think  I  know." 

"  It's  no  new  thing,  with  me,"  said  the  other 
hoarsely.  "  It's  been  three  years.  The  night  of 
the  ball,  I  thought  perhaps  that  —  I  don't  mean  to 
ask  what  you  might  have  a  right  to  resent  —  but  I 
must  find  out.  Is  there  any  reason  why  I  shouldn't 
try  my  luck  ?  " 

Valiant  shook  his  head.  "  No,"  he  said  heavily, 
"  there  is  no  reason." 

The  boyish  look  sprang  back  to  Lusk's  face.  He 
drew  a  long  breath.  "  Why,  then  I  will,"  he  said. 
"I  —  I'm  sorry  if  I  hurt  you.  Heaven  knows  I 
didn't  want  to !  " 

He  grasped  the  other's  hand  with  a  man's  hearti- 
ness and  went  up  the  road  with  a  swinging  stride; 
and  Valiant  stood  watching  him  go,  with  his  hands 
tight-clenched  at  his  side. 

A  little  later  Valiant  climbed  the  sloping  drive- 
way of  Damory  Court.  It  seemed  to  stare  at  him 
from  a  thousand  reproachful  eyes.  The  bachelor 


RENUNCIATION  403 

red  squirrel  from  his  tree-crotch  looked  down  at 
him  askance.  The  redbirds,  flashing  through  the 
hedges,  fluttered  disconsolately.  Fire-Cracker,  the 
peacock,  was  shrieking  from  the  upper  lawn  and 
the  strident  discord  seemed  to  mock  his  mood. 

The  great  house  had  become  home  to  him ;  he  told 
himself  that  he  would  make  no  other.  The  few 
things  he  had  brought  —  his  books  and  trophies  — 
had  grown  to  be  a  part  of  it,  and  they  should  remain. 
The  ax  should  not  be  laid  to  the  walnut  grove.  As 
his  father  had  done,  he  would  leave  behind  him  the 
life  he  had  lived  there,  and  the  old  Court  should  be 
once  more  closed  and  deserted.  Uncle  Jefferson  and 
Aunt  Daphne  might  live  on  in  the  cabin  back  of 
the  kitchens.  There  was  pasturage  for  the  horse 
and  the  cows  and  for  old  Sukey,  and  some  acres  had 
already  been  cleared  for  planting.  And  there  would 
be  the  swans,  the  ducks  and  chickens,  the  peafowl 
and  the  fish. 

A  letter  had  come  to  him  that  morning.  The 
Corporation  had  resumed  business  with  credit  unim- 
paired. Public  opinion  was  more  than  friendly  now. 
A  place  waited  for  him  there,  and  one  of  added 
honor,  in  a  concern  that  had  rigorously  cleansed 
itself  and  already  looked  forward  to  a  new  career  of 
prosperity.  But  he  thought  of  this  now  with  no 
thrill.  The  old  life  no  longer  called.  There  were 
still  wide  unpeopled  spaces  somewhere  where  a 


4©4       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

man's  hand  and  brain  were  no  less  needed,  and  there 
was  work  there  that  would  help  him  to  bear,  if  not 
forget. 

He  paced  up  and  down  the  porch  under  the  great 
gray  columns,  his  steps  spiritless  and  lagging.  The 
Virginia  creeper,  trailing  over  its  end,  waved  to  and 
fro  with  a  sound  like  a  sigh.  How  long  would  it  be 
before  the  lawn  was  once  more  unkempt  and  drag- 
gled? Before  burdock  arid  thistle,  mullein  and 
Spanish-needle  would  return  to  smother  the  clover? 
Before  Damory  Court,  on  which  he  had  spent  such 
loving  labor,  would  lie  again  as  it  lay  that  after- 
noon when  he  had  rattled  thither  on  Uncle  Jeffer- 
son's crazy  hack?  Before  there  would  be  for  him, 
in  some  far-away  corner  of  the  world,  only  Wish- 
ing-House  and  the  Never-Never  Land  ? 

In  the  hall  he  stood  a  moment  before  the  fire- 
place, his  eyes  on  its  carven  motto,  I  cling e:  the 
phrase  was  like  a  spear-thrust.  He  began  to  wander 
restlessly  through  the  house,  up  and  down,  like  a 
prowling  animal.  The  dining-room  looked  austere 
and  chill  —  only  the  little  lady  in  hoops  and  love- 
curls  who  had  been  his  great-grandmother  smiled 
wistfully  down  from  her  gilt  frame  above  the  con- 
sole —  and  in  the  library  a  melancholy  deeper  than 
that  of  yesterday's  tragedy  seemed  to  hang,  through 
which  Devil-John,  drawing  closer  the  leash  of  his 
leaping  hound,  glared  sardonically  at  him  from  his 
one  cold  eye.  The  shutters  of  the  parlor  were 


RENUNCIATION  405 

closed,  but  he  threw  them  open  and  let  the  rich  light 
pierce  the  yellow  gloom,  glinting  from  the  figures  in 
the  cabinet  and  weaving  a  thousand  tiny  rainbows 
in  the  prisms  of  the  great  chandelier. 

He  went  up-stairs,  into  the  bedrooms  one  by  one, 
now  and  then  passing  his  hand  over  a  polished  chair- 
back  or  touching  an  ornament  or  a  frame  on  the 
wall :  into  The  Hilarium  with  its  records  of  childish 
study  and  play.  The  dolls  stood  now  on  dress- 
parade  in  glass  cases,  and  prints  in  bright  colors, 
dear  to  little  people,  were  on  the  walls.  He  opened 
the  shutters  here,  too,  and  stood  some  time  on  the 
threshold  before  he  turned  and  went  heavily  down- 
stairs. 

Through  the  rear  door  he  could  see  the  kitchens, 
and  Aunt  Daphne  sitting  under  the  trumpet-vine 
piecing  a  nine-patch  calico  quilt  with  little  squares 
of  orange  and  red  and  green  cloth.  Two  diminutive 
darkies  were  sprawled  on  the  ground  looking  up  at 
her  with  round  serious  eyes,  while  a  wary  bantam 
pecked  industriously  about  their  bare  legs. 

"  En  den  whut  de  roostah  say,  Aunt  Daph  ?  " 

"  Ol'  roostah  he  hollah  ter  all  he  wifes,  '  Oo  — 
ooo !  Oo  — *-  ooo !  Young  Mars'  come !  —  Young 
Mars'  come !  Young  Mars'  come ! '  En  dey  all 
mighty  skeered,  'case  Mars'  John  he  cert'n'y  fond 
ob  fried  chick'n.  But  de  big  tuhkey  gobbler  he 
don'  b'leeve  et  'tall.  'Doubtful  —  doubtful  — 
doubtful ! '  he  say,  lak  dat.  Den  de  drake  he  peep 


406      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

eroun'  de  cornah,  en  he  say,  *  Haish !  Haish !  Haish ! ' 
Fo'  he  done  seed  Mars'  John  comin',  sho'  nuff. 
But  et  too  late  by  den,  fo'  Aunt  Daph  she  done 
grab  Mis'  Pullet,  en  Mars'  John  he  gwineter  eat 
huh  dis  bery  evenin'  fo'  he  suppah.  Now  you  cbil- 
len  run  erlong  home  ter  yo'  mammies,  en  don'  yo' 
pick  none  ob  dem  green  apples  on  de  way,  neidah." 


It  was  not  till  after  dark  had  come  that  Valiant 
said  good-by  to  the  garden.  He  loved  it  best 
under  the  starlight.  He  sat  a  long  hour  under  the 
pergola  overlooking  the  lake,  where  he  could  dimly 
see  the  green  rocks,  and  the  white  froth  of  the  water 
bubbling  and  chuckling  down  over  their  rounded  out- 
lines to  the  shrouded  level  below.  The  moon  lifted 
finally  and  soared  through  the  sky,  blowing  out  the 
little  lamps  of  stars.  Under  its  light  a  gossamer 
mist  robed  the  landscape  in  a  shimmering  opales- 
cence,  in  which  tree  and  shrub  altered  their  values 
and  became  transmuted  to  silver  sentinels,  watching 
over  a  demesne  of  violet-velvet  shadows  filled  with 
sleepy  twitterings  and  stealthy  rustlings  and  the  odor 
of  wild  honeysuckle. 

At  last  he  stood  before  the  old  sun-dial,  rear- 
ing its  column  from  its  pearly  clusters  of  blossoms. 
"  I  count  no  hours  but  the  happy  ones ":  he  read 
the  inscription  with  an  indrawn  breath.  Then, 
groping  at  its  base,  he  lifted  the  ivy  that  had  once 


RENUNCIATION  407 

rambled  there  and  drew  up  the  tangle  again  over  the 
stone  disk.     His  Bride's-Garden ! 

In  the  library,  an  hour  later,  sitting  at  the  big 
black  pigeonholed  desk,  he  wrote  to  Shirley : 

"  I  am  leaving  to-night  on  the  midnight  train. 
Uncle  Jefferson  will  give  you  this  note  in  the  morn- 
ing. I  will  not  stay  at  Damory  Court  to  bring  more 
pain  into  your  life.  I  am  going  very  far  away,  i 
understand  all  you  are  feeling  —  and  so,  good-by, 
good-by.  God  keep  you!  I  love  you  and  I  shall 
love  you  always,  always  1 " 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

THE  VOICE  FROM  THE  PAST 

THOUGH  the  doctor  left  the  church  with 
Shirley  and  her  mother,  he  did  not  drive  to 
Rosewood,  but  to  his  office.  There,  alone  with 
Mrs.  Dandridge  while  Shirley  waited  in  the  carriage, 
he  unlocked  the  little  tin  box  that  had  been  the  ma- 
jor's, with  the  key  Mrs.  Dandridge  gave  him,  and  put 
into  her  hands  a  little  packet  of  yellow  oiled-silk 
which  bore  her  name.  He  noted  that  it  agitated  her 
profoundly  and  as  she  thrust  it  into  the  bosom  of 
her  dress,  her  face  seemed  stirred  as  he  had  never 
seen  it.  When  he  put  her  again  in  the  carriage,  he 
patted  her  shoulder  with  a  touch  far  gentler  than  his 
gruff  good -by. 

At  Rosewood,  at  length,  alone  in  her  room,  she 
sat  down  with  the  packet  in  her  hands.  During  the 
long  hours  since  first  the  little  key  had  lain  in  her 
palm  like  a  live  coal,  she  had  been  all  afire  with  eager- 
ness. Now  the  moment  had  come,  she  was  almost 
afraid. 

She  tried  to  imagine  that  letter's  coming  to  her  — 
then.  Thirty  years  ago!  A  May  day,  a  day  of 
golden  sunshine  and  flowers.  The  arbors  had  been 

408 


THE  VOICE  FROM  THE  PAST      409 

covered  with  roses  then,  too,  like  those  whose  per- 
fume drifted  to  her  now.  Evil  news  flies  fast,  and 
she  had  heard  of  the  duel  very  early  that  morning. 
The  letter  would  have  reached  her  later.  She  would 
have  fled  away  with  it  to  this  very  room  to  read  it 
alone  —  as  she  did  now ! 

With  unsteady  fingers  she  unwrapped  the  oiled- 
silk,  broke  the  letter's  seal,  and  read : 

"  Dearest: 

"  Before  you  read  this,  you  will  no  doubt  have 
heard  the  thing  that  has  happened  this  sunshiny 
morning.  Sassoon  —  poor  Sassoon !  I  can  say  that 
with  all  my  heart  —  is  dead.  What  this  fact  will 
mean  to  you,  God  help  me!  I  can  not  guess.  For 
I  have  never  been  certain,  Judith,  of  your  heart. 
Sometimes  I  have  thought  you  loved  me  —  me  only 
-  as  I  love  you.  Last  night  when  I  saw  you  wear- 
ing my  cape  jessamines  at  the  ball,  I  was  almost  sure 
of  it.  But  when  you  made  me  promise,  whatever 
happened,  not  to  lift  my  hand  against  him,  then  I 
doubted.  Was  it  because  you  feared  for  him? 
Would  to  God  at  this  moment  I  knew  this  was  not 
true !  For  whatever  the  fact,  I  must  love  you, 
darling,  you  and  no  other,  as  long  as  I  live !  " 

When  she  had  read  thus  far,  she  closed  the  letter, 
and  pressing  a  hand  against  her  heart  as  if  to  still 
its  throbbing,  locked  the  written  pages  in  a  drawer 
of  her  bureau.  She  went  down-stairs  and  made 
Ranston  bring  her  chair  to  its  accustomed  place 


410       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

under  the  rose-arbor,  and  sat  there  through  the  fall- 
ing twilight.  ' 

She  and  Shirley  talked  but  little  at  dinner,  and 
what  she  said  seemed  to  come  winging  from  old 
memories  —  her  own  girlhood,  its  routs  and  picnics 
and  harum-scarum  pleasures.  And  there  were  long 
gaps  in  which  she  sat  silent,  playing  with  her  napkin, 
the  light  color  coming  and  going  in  her  delicate 
cheek,  lost  in  revery.  It  was  not  till  the  hall-clock 
struck  her  usual  hour  that  she  rose  to  go  to  her  room. 

"  Don't  send  Emmaline,"  she  said.  "  I  shan't 
want  her/'  She  kissed  Shirley  good  night. 
"Maybe  after  a  while  you  will  sing  for  me;  you 
haven't  played  your  harp  for  ever  so  long." 

In  the  subdued  candle-light  Mrs.  Dandridge 
locked  the  door  of  her  room.  She  opened  a  closet, 
and  from  the  very  bottom  of  a  small  haircloth  trunk, 
lifted  and  shook  out  from  its  many  tissue  wrappings 
a  faded  gown  of  rose-colored  silk,  with  pointed  bod- 
ice and  old-fashioned  puff-sleeves.  She  spread 
this  on  *he  bed  and  laid  with  it  a  pair  of  yellowed 
satin  ?1.iprers  and  a  little  straw  basket  that  held 
a  spray  of  what  had  once  been  cape  jessamine. 

In  the  flickering  light  she  undressed  and  rear- 
ranged her  hair,  catching  its  silvery  curling  meshes 
in  a  low  soft  coil.  Looking  almost  furtively  about 
her,  she  put  on  the  rose-colored  gown,  and  pinned 
the  withered  flower-spray  on  its  breast.  She  lighted 
more  candles  —  in  the  wall-brackets  and  on  the 


THE  VOICE  FROM  THE  PAST       411 

dressing-table  —  and  the  reading-lamp  on  the  desk. 
Standing  before  her  mirror  then,  she  gazed  long  at 
the  reflection  —  the  poor  faded  rose-tint  against  the 
pale  ivory  of  her  slender  neck,  and  the  white  hair. 
A  little  quiver  ran  over  her  lips. 

"  '  Whatever  the  fact/  "  she  whispered, 
you  and  no  other,  as  long  as  I  live/  ' 

She  unlocked  the  bureau-drawer  then,  took  out 
the  letter,  and  seating  herself  by  the  table,  read  the 
remainder : 

"  I  write  this  in  the  old  library  and  Bristow  holds 
my  horse  by  the  porch.  He  will  give  you  this  let- 
ter when  I  am  gone. 

"  Last  night  we  were  dancing  —  all  of  us  —  at 
the  ball.  I  can  scarcely  believe  it  was  less  than 
twelve  hours  ago !  The  calendar  on  my  desk  has  a 
motto  for  each  leaf.  To-day's  is  this :  '  Every 
man  carries  his  fate  on  a  riband  about  his  neck/ 
Last  night  I  would  have  smiled  at  that,  perhaps; 
to-day  I  say  to  myself,  '  It's  true  —  it's  true ! '  Two 
little  hours  ago  I  could  have  sworn  that  whatever 
happened  to  me,  Sassoon  would  suffer  no  harm. 

"  Judith,  I  could  not  avoid  the  meeting.  You  will 
know  the  circumstances,  and  will  see  that  it  was 
forced  upon  me.  But  though  we  met  on  the  field, 
I  kept  my  promise.  Sassoon  did  not  fall  by  my 
hand." 

She  had  begun  to  tremble  so  that  the  paper  shook 
in  her  hands,  and  from  her  breast,  shattered  by  her 
quick  breathing,  the  brown  jessamine  petals  dusted 


412       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

down  in  her  lap.     It  was  some  moments  before  she 
could  calm  herself  sufficiently  to  read  on. 

"  He  fired  at  the  signal  and  the  shot  went  wide. 
I  threw  my  pistol  on  the  ground.  Then  —  whether 
maddened  by  my  refusal  to  fire,  I  can  not  tell  —  he 
turned  his  weapon  all  at  once  and  shot  himself 
through  the  breast.  It  was  over  in  an  instant.  The 
seconds  did  not  guess  —  do  not  even  now,  for  it  hap- 
pened but  an  hour  ago.  As  the  code  decrees,  their 
backs  were  turned  when  the  shots  were  fired.  But 
there  were  circumstances  I  can  not  touch  upon  to 
you  which  made  them  disapprove  —  which  made  my 
facing  him  just  then  seem  unchivalrous.  I  saw  it  in 
Bristow's  face,  and  liked  him  the  better  for  it,  even 
while  it  touched  my  pride.  They  could  not  know, 
of  course,  that  I  did  not  intend  to  fire.  Well,  you 
and  they  will  know  it  now!  And  Bristow  has  my 
pistol ;  he  will  find  it  undischarged  —  thank  God, 
thank  God! 

"But  will  that  matter  to  you?  If  you  loved 
Sassoon,  I  shall  always  in  your  mind  stand  as  the  in- 
direct cause  of  his  death!  It  is  for  this  reason  I  am 
going  away  —  I  could  not  bear  to  look  in  your  ac- 
cusing eyes  and  hear  you  say  it.  Nor  could  I  bear 
to  stay  here,  a  reminder  to  you  of  such  a  horror. 
If  you  love  me,  you  will  write  and  call  me  back  to 
you.  Oh,  Judith,  Judith,  my  own  dear  love!  I 
pray  God  you  will !  " 

She  put  the  letter  down  and  laid  her  face  upon  it. 
"  Beauty !  Beauty !  "  she  whispered,  dry-eyed.  "  I 
never  knew!  I  never  knew!  But  it  would  have 


THE  VOICE  FROM  THE  PAST       413 

made  no  difference,  darling.  I  would  have  forgiven 
you  anything  —  everything !  You  know  that,  now, 
dear!  You  have  been  certain  of  it  all  these  years 
that  have  been  so  empty,  empty  to  me !  " 

But  when  the  faded  rose-colored  gown  and  the 
poor  time-yellowed  slippers  had  been  laid  back  in 
the  haircloth  trunk ;  when,  her  door  once  more  un- 
bolted, she  lay  in  her  bed  in  the  dim  glow  of  the  read- 
ing-lamp, with  her  curling  silvery  hair  drifting  across 
the  pillow  and  the  letter  beneath  it,  at  last  the  tears 
came  coursing  down  her  cheeks. 

And  with  the  loosening  of  her  tears,  gradually  and 
softly  came  joy  —  infinitely  deeper  than  the  anguish 
and  sense  of  betrayal.  It  poured  upon  her  like  a 
trembling  flood.  Long,  long  ago  he  had  gone  out 
of  the  world  —  it  was  only  his  memory  that  counted 
to  her.  Now  that  could  no  longer  spell  pain  or 
emptiness  or  denial.  It  was  engoldened  by  a  new 
light,  and  in  that  light  she  would  walk  gently  and 
smilingly  to  the  end. 

She  found  the  slender  golden  chain  that  hung 
about  her  neck  and  opened  the  little  black  locket  with 
its  circlet  of  laureled  pearls.  And  as  she  gazed  at 
the  face  it  held,  which  time  had  not  touched  with 
change,  the  sound  of  Shirley's  harp  came  softly  in 
through  the  window.  She  was  playing  an  old-fash- 
ioned song,  of  the  sort  she  knew  her  mother  loved 
best: 


414       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"Darling,  I  am  growing  old. 
Silver  threads  among  the  gold 
Shine  upon  my  brow  to-day ; 
Life  is  fading  fast  away. 
But,  my  darling,  you  will  be 
Always  young  and  fair  to  me." 

Outside  the  leaves  rustled,  the  birds  called  and  the 
crickets  sang  their  unending  epithalamia  of  summer 
nights,  and  on  this  tone-background  the  melody  rose 
tenderly  and  lingeringly  like  a  haunting  perfume  of 
pressed  flowers.  She  smiled  and  lifted  the  locket 
to  her  face,  whispering  the  words  of  the  refrain: 

"  Yes,  my  darling,  you  will  be 
Always  young  and  fair  to  me !  " 

The  smile  was  still  on  her  lips  when  she  fell  asleep, 
and  the  little  locket  still  lay  in  her  fingers. 


CHAPTER  XLVII 

WHEN  THE  CLOCK  STRUCK 

ORROW  weeps  —  sorrow  sings."  As  Shir- 
ley  played  that  night,  the  old  Russian  proverb 
kept  running  through  her  mind.  When  she  had 
pushed  the  gold  harp  into  its  corner  she  threw  her- 
self upon  a  broad  sofa  in  a  feathery  drift  of  chintz 
cushions  and  dropped  her  forehead  in  her  laced 
fingers.  A  gilt- framed  mirror  hung  on  the  opposite 
wall,  out  of  which  her  sorrowful  brooding  eyes 
looked  with  an  expression  of  dumb  and  weary  suf- 
fering. 

Her  confused  thoughts  raced  hither  and  thither. 
What  would  be  the  end?  Would  Valiant  forget 
after  a  time  ?  Would  he  marry  —  Miss  Fargo,  per- 
haps? The  thought  caused  her  a  stab  of  anguish. 
Yet  she  herself  could  not  marry  him.  The  barrier i 
was  impassable ! 

She  was  still  lying  listlessly  among  the  cushions 
when  a  step  sounded  on  the  porch  and  she  heard 
Chilly  Lusk's  voice  in  the  hall.  With  heavy  hands 
Shirley  put  into  place  her  disheveled  hair  and  rose 
to  meet  him. 

415 


416       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

"  I'm  awfully  selfish  to  come  to-night,"  he  said 
awkwardly ;  "  no  doubt  you  are  tired  out." 

She  disclaimed  the  weariness  that  dragged  upon 
her  spirits  like  leaden  weights,  and  made  him  wel- 
come with  her  usual  cordiality.  She  was,  in  fact, 
relieved  at  his  coming.  At  Damory  Court,  the 
night  of  the  ball,  when  she  had  come  from  the  garden 
with  her  lips  thrilling  from  Valiant's  kiss,  she  had 
suddenly  met  his  look.  It  had  seemed  to  hold  a 
startled  realization  that  she  had  remembered  with  a 
remorseful  compunction.  Since  that  night  he  had 
not  been  at  Rosewood. 

Ranston  had  lighted  a  pine-knot  in  the  fireplace, 
and  the  walls  were  shuddering  with  crimson 
shadows.  Her  hand  was  shielding  her  eyes,  and  as 
she  strove  to  fill  the  gaps  in  their  somewhat  spas- 
modic conversation  with  the  trivial  impersonal 
things  that  belonged  to  their  old  intimacy,  the  tiny 
flickering  flames  seemed  to  be  darting  unfriendly 
fingers  plucking  at  her  secret.  Leaning  from  her 
nest  of  cushions  she  thrust  the  poker  into  the  glow- 
ing resinous  mass  till  sparks  whizzed  up  the  chim- 
ney's black  maw  in  a  torrent. 

"How  they  fly!"  she  said.  "Rickey  Snyder 
calls  it  raising  a  blizzard  in  Hades.  I  used  to 
think  they  flew  up  to  the  sky  and  became  the  littlest 
stars.  What  a  pity  we  have  to  grow  up  and  learn  so 
much !  I'd  rather  have  kept  on  believing  that  when 
the  red  leaves  in  the  woods  whirled  about  in  a 


WHEN  THE  CLOCK  STRUCK        417 

circle  the  fairies  were  dancing,  and  that  it  was  the 
gnomes  who  put  the  cockle-burs  in  the  hounds' 
ears." 

She  had  been  talking  at  random,  gradually  be- 
coming shrinkingly  conscious  of  his  constrained  and 
stumbling  manner.  She  had,  however,  but  half  de- 
fined his  errand  when  he  came  to  it  all  in  a  burst. 

"I  —  I  can't  get  to  it,  somehow,  Shirley,"  he  said 
with  sudden  desperation,  "  but  here  it  is.  I've  come 
to  ask  you  to  marry  me.  Don't  stop  me,"  he  went 
on  hurriedly,  lifting  his  hand;  "whatever  you  say, 
I  must  tell  you.  I've  been  trying  to  for  months  and 
months ! "  Now  that  he  had  started,  it  came 
with  a  boyish  vehemence  that  both  chilled  and 
thrilled  her.  Even  in  her  own  desolation,  and 
shrinking  almost  unbearably  from  the  avowal,  the 
hope  and  brightness  in  his  voice  touched  her  with 
pity.  It  seemed  to  her  that  life  was  a  strange  jumble 
of  unescapable  and  incomprehensible  pain.  And  all 
the  while,  in  the  young  voice  vibrant  with  feeling, 
her  cringing  ear  was  catching  imagined  echoes  of 
that  other  voice,  graver  and  more  self-contained,  but 
shaken  by  the  same  passion,  in  that  iteration  of  "  I 
love  you !  I  love  you !  " 

His  answer  came  to  him  finally  in  her  silence,  and 
he  released  her  hands  which  he  had  caught  in  his 
own.  They  dropped,  limp  and  unresponsive,  in  her 
lap.  "  Shirley,"  he  said  brokenly,  "  maybe  you 
can't  care  for  me  —  yet.  But  if  you  will  marry 


4i8      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

me,  I  —  I'll  be  content  with  so  little,  till  —  you  do." 

She  shook  her  head,  her  hair  making  dim  flashes 
in  the  firelight.  "  No,  Chilly,"  she  said.  "  It  makes 
me  wretched  to  give  you  pain,  but  I  must  —  I  must ! 
Love  isn't  like  that.  It  doesn't  come  afterwrard.  I 
know.  I  could  never  give  you  what  you  want. 
You  would  end  by  despising  me,  as  I  —  should  de- 
spise myself." 

"  I  won't  give  up,"  he  said  incoherently.  "  I  can't 
give  up.  Not  so  long  as  I  know  there's  nobody  else. 
At  the  ball  I  thought  —  I  thought  perhaps  you  cared 
for  Valiant  —  but  since  he  told  me  — " 

He  stopped  suddenly,  for  she  was  looking  at  him 
from  an  ashen  face.  "  He  told  me  there  was  no  rea- 
son why  I  should  not  try  my  luck,"  he  said  difficultly. 
"  I  asked  him." 

There  was  a  silence,  while  he  gazed  at  her,  breath- 
ing deeply.  Then  he  tried  to  laugh. 

"  All  right,"  he  said  hoarsely.  "  It  —  it  doesn't 
matter.  Don't  worry." 

She  stretched  out  her  hand  to  him  in  a  gesture  of 
wistful  pain,  and  he  held  it  a  moment  between  both 
of  his,  then  released  it  and  went  hurriedly  out. 

As  the  door  closed,  Shirley  sat  down,  her  head 
dropping  into  her  hands  like  a  storm-broken  flower. 
Valiant  had  accepted  the  finality  of  the  situation. 
With  a  wave  of  deeper  hopelessness  than  had  yet 
submerged  her,  she  realized  that,  against  her  own  de- 


WHEN  THE  CLOCK  STRUCK        419 

cision,  something  deep  within  her  had  taken  shy  and 
secret  comfort  in  his  stubborn  masculine  refusal. 
Against  all  fact,  in  face  of  the  impossible,  her  heart 
had  been  clinging  to  this  —  as  though  his  love  might 
even  attain  the  miraculous  and  somewhere,  some- 
how, recreate  circumstance.  But  now  he,  too,  had 
bowed  to  the  decree.  A  kind  of  utter  apathetic 
wretchedness  seized  upon  her,  to  replace  the  sharp 
misery  that  had  so  long  been  her  companion  —  an 
empty  numbness  in  which,  in  a  measure,  she  ceased 
to  feel. 

An  hour  dragged  slowly  by  and  at  length  she  rose 
and  went  slowly  up  the  stairs.  Her  head  felt  curi- 
ously heavy,  but  it  did  not  ache.  Outside  her 
mother's  door,  as  was  her  custom,  she  paused  me- 
chanically to  listen.  A  tiny  pencil  of  light  struck 
through  the  darkness  and  painted  a  spot  of  bright- 
ness on  her  gown.  It  came  through  the  keyhole; 
the  lamp  in  her  mother's  room  was  burning. 
"  She  has  fallen  asleep  and  forgotten  it,"  she 
thought,  and  softly  turning  the  knob,  pushed  the 
door  noiselessly  open  and  entered. 

A  moment  she  stood  listening  to  the  low  regular 
breathing  of  the  sleeper.  The  reading-lamp  shed  a 
shaded  glow  on  the  pillow  with  its  spread-out  silver 
hair,  and  on  the  delicate  hands  clasped  loosely  on  the 
coverlet.  Shirley  came  close  and  looked  down  on 
the  placid  face.  It  was  smooth  as  a  child's  and  a 
smile  touched  it  lightly  as  if  some  pleasant  sleep- 


420       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

thought  had  just  laid  rosy  fingers  on  the  dreaming 
lips.  The  light  caught  and  sparkled  from  some- 
thing bright  that  lay  between  her  mother's  hands. 
It  was  the  enamel  brooch  that  held  her  own  baby 
curl,  and  she  saw  suddenly  that  what  she  had  all 
her  life  thought  was  a  solid  pendant,  was  now  open 
locket-wise  and  that  the  two  halves  clasped  a  minia- 
ture. It  came  to  her  at  once  that  the  picture  must 
be  Sassoon's,  and  a  quick  thrill  of  pity  and  yearn- 
ing welled  up  through  her  own  dejection.  Stoop- 
ing, she  looked  at  it  closely.  She  started  as  she 
did  so,  for  the  face  on  the  little  disk  of  ivory  was 
that  of  John  Valiant. 

An  instant  she  stared  unbelievingly.  Then  recol- 
lection of  the  resemblance  of  which  Valiant  had 
told  her  rushed  to  her,  and  she  realized  that  it  must 
be  the  picture  of  his  father.  The  fact  shocked  and 
confounded  her.  Why  should  her  mother  carry 
in  secret  the  miniature  of  the  man  who  had  killed  — 

Shirley's  breath  stopped.  She  felt  her  face  ting- 
ing and  a  curious  weakness  came  on  her  limbs. 
Why  indeed,  unless  —  and  the  thought  was  like  a 
wild  prayer  in  her  mind  —  she  had  been  mistaken  in 
her  surmise?  Thoughts  came  thronging  in  panic 
haste:  the  fourteenth  of  May  and  the  cape  jessa- 
mines—  these  might  point  no  less  to  Valiant  than 
to  Sassoon.  But  her  mother's  fainting  at  the  sight 
of  the  son  —  the  eager  interest  she  had  displayed  in 
Shirley's  accounts  of  him,  from  the  episode  of  the 


WHEN  THE  CLOCK  STRUCK        421 

rose  and  the  bulldog  to  the  tournament  ball  — 
seemed  now  to  stand  out  in  a  new  light,  throbbing 
and  roseate.  Could  it  be  ?  Had  she  been  stumbling 
along  a  blind  trail,  misled  by  the  cunning  dove- 
tailing of  circumstance?  Her  heart  was  beating 
stiflingly.  If  she  should  be  mistaken  now!  She 
dashed  her  hand  across  her  eyes  as  though  to  com- 
pel their  clearness,  and  looked  again. 

It  was  Beauty  Valiant's  face  that  lay  in  the 
locket,  and  that  could  mean  but  one  thing:  it  was 
he,  not  Sassoon,  whom  her  mother  loved! 

The  lamplight  seemed  to  grow  and  spread  to  an 
unbearable  radiance.  Shirle}^  thought  she  cried  out 
with  a  sudden  sweet  wildness,  but  she  had  not 
moved  or  uttered  a  sound.  The  illumination  was 
all  about  her,  like  a  splendid  cloud.  The  impossible 
had  happened.  The  miracle  for  which  she  had  hys- 
terically prayed  had  been  wrought ! 

When  she  blew  out  the  light,  the  shining  still  re- 
mained. That  glowing  knowledge,  like  a  vitalizing 
and  physical  presence,  passed  with  her  through  the 
hall  to  her  own  room.  As  she  stood  in  the  elfish 
light  of  her  one  candle,  the  poignancy  of  her  joy 
was  as  sharp  as  her  past  pain.  Later  was  to  come 
the  wonder  how  that  tragedy  had  bent  Beauty 
Valiant's  life  to  exile  and  her  mother's  to  unfulfil- 
ment,  and  in  time  she  was  to  know  these  things,  too. 
But  now  the  one  great  knowledge  blotted  out  all 
else.  She  need  starve  her  fancy  no  longer!  The 


422       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

hours  with  her  lover  might  again  *sweep  across  her 
memory  undenied.  She  felt  his  arms,  his  kisses, 
heard  his  whispers  against  her  cheek  and  smelled  the 
perfume  of  Madonna  lilies. 

She  drew  the  curtain  and  opened  the  window 
noiselessly  to  the  night.  Only  a  few  hours  ago  she 
had  been  singing  to  her  harp  in  what  wretchedness ! 
She  laughed  softly  to  herself.  The  quiet  night  was 
full  of  his  voice:  "I  love  you!  I  want  nothing 
but  you !  "  How  her  pitiful  error  had  tortured  and 
wrung  them  both!  But  to-morrow  he,  too,  would 
know  that  all  was  well. 

A  clear  sound  chimed  across  the  distance  —  the 
bell  of  the  court-house  clock,  striking  midnight. 
One!  .  .  .  Two!  .  .  .  How  often  lately  it  had 
rung  discordantly  across  her  mood;  now  it  seemed 
a  clamant  watcher,  tolling  joy.  Three!  .  .  .  Four! 
.  .  .  Five!  .  .  .  Perhaps  he  was  sleepless,  listening, 
too.  Was  he  in  the  old  library,  thinking  of  her? 
Six!  .  .  .  Seven!  .  .  .  Eight!  .  .  .  Nine!  ...  If 
she  could  only  send  her  message  to  him  on  the  bells ! 
Ten!  ...  It  swelled  more  loudly  now,  more  de- 
liberate. Eleven!  .  .  .  Another  day  was  almost 
gone.  Twelve!  .  .  .  "  Joy  cometh  in  the  morning  " 
—  ran  the  whisper  across  her  thought.  It  was 
morning  now. 

Thirteen! 

She  caught  a  sharp  breath.  Her  ear  had  not  de- 
ceived her  —  the  vibration  still  palpitated  on  the  air 


WHEN  THE  CLOCK  STRUCK       42? 

like  a  heart  of  sound.  It  had  struck  thirteen!  A 
little  eery  touch  crept  along  her  nerves  and  a  cool 
dampness  broke  on  her  skin,  for  she  seemed  to  hear, 
quavering  through  the  wondering  silence,  the  voice 
of  Mad  Anthony,  as  it  had  quavered  to  her  ear  on 
the  door-step  of  the  negro  cabin,  with  the  well-sweep 
throwing  its  long  curved  shadow  across  the  group 
of  laughing  faces : 

"  Ah  sees  yo'  gwine  ter  him.  Ah  heahs  de  co'ot- 
house  clock  a-strikin'  in  de  night  —  en  yo*  gwine. 
.  .  .  Don'  wait,  don'  wait,  li'l  mistis,  er  de  trouble- 
cloud  gwine  kyah  him  erway  f'om  yo*.  .  .  .  When 
de  clock  strike  thuhteen  —  when  de  clock  strike 
thuhteen  — " 

She  dropped  the  flowered  curtain  and  drew  back, 
A  weird  fancy  had  begun  to  press  on  her  brain. 
Had  not  Mad  Anthony  foretold  truly  what  had 
gone  before?  What  if  there  were  some  cryptic 
meaning  in  this,  too?  To  go  to  him,  at  midnight, 
by  a  lonely  country  road  —  she,  a  girl  ?  Incredible ! 
Yet  her  mind  had  opened  to  a  vague  growing  fear 
that  was  swiftly  mounting  to  a  thriving  anxiety. 
That  innate  superstition,  secretly  cherished  while 
derided,  which  is  the  heritage  of  the  Southron-born 
bred  from  centuries  of  contact  with  a  mystical  race, 
had  her  in  its  grip.  Yet  all  the  while  her  sober 
actual  common-sense  was  crying  out  upon  her  — 
and  crying  in  vain.  Unknown  appetences  that  had 
Iain  darkling  in  her  blood,  come  down  to  her  from 


424      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

long1  generations,  were  suddenly  compelling  her. 
The  curtain  began  to  wave  in  a  little  wind  that  whis- 
pered in  the  silk,  and  somewhere  in  the  yard  below 
she  could  hear  Selim  nipping  the  clover. 

She  was  to  go  or  the  "  trouble-cloud "  would 
carry  him  away! 

A  strange  expression  of  mingled  fright  and  re- 
solve grew  on  her  face.  She  ran  on  tiptoe  to  her 
wardrobe  and  with  frantic  haste  dragged  out  a 
rough  cloak  that  fell  over  her  soft  house-gown,  cov- 
ering it  to  the  feet.  It  had  a  peaked  hood  falling 
from  its  collar  and  into  this  she  thrust  the  resentful 
masses  of  her  hair.  Every  few  seconds  she  caught 
her  breath  in  a  short  gasp,  and  once  she  paused 
with  an  apprehensive  glance  over  her  shoulder  and 
shivered.  She  scarcely  knew  what  she  did,  nor  did 
she  ask  herself  what  might  be  the  outcome  of  such 
an  absurd  adventure.  She  neither  knew  nor  cared, 
She  was  swept  off  her  feet  and  whirled  away  into 
some  outlandish  limbo  of  shadowy  fear  and  crying 
dread. 

Slipping  off  her  shoes,  she  went  swiftly  and  noise- 
lessly down  the  stair.  She  let  herself  out  of  the 
door  and,  shoes  on  again,  ran  across  the  clover.  A 
hound  clambered  about  her,  whining,  but  she  si- 
lenced him  with  a  whispered  word.  Selim  lifted 
his  head  and  she  patted  the  snuffling  inquiring  muz- 
zle an  instant  before,  with  her  hand  on  his  mane,  she 
led  him  through  the  hedge  to  the  stable.  It  was 


WHEN  THE  CLOCK  STRUCK        4*5 

but  the  work  of  a  moment  to  throw  on  a  side-saddle 
and  buckle  the  girth.  Then,  mounting,  she  turned 
him  into  the  lane. 

He  was  thoroughbred,  and  her  tense  excitement 
seemed  to  communicate  itself  to  him.  He  blew  the 
breath  through  his  delicate  flaring  nostrils  and  flung 
up  his  head  at  her  restraining  hand  on  the  bridle. 
Once  on  the  Red  Road,  she  let  him  have  his  will. 
,  The  long  vacant  highway  reeled  out  behind  her 
to  the  fierce  and  lonely  hoof-tattoo.  She  was 
scarcely  conscious  of  consecutive  thought  —  all  was 
a  vague  jumble  of  chaotic  impressions  threaded  by 
that  necessity  that  called  her  like  an  insistent  voice. 

Copse  and  hedge  flew  by,  streaks  of  distemper  on 
the  shifting  gloom;  swarthy  farmhouse  roofs  hud- 
dled like  giant  Indians  on  the  trail,  and  ponds  in 
pastures  glinted  back  the  pale  glimmering  of  stars. 
The  faint  mist,  tangled  in  the  branches  of  the  trees, 
made  them  look  like  ghosts  gathered  to  see  her 
pass.  Was  this  real  or  was  she  dreaming?  Was 
she,  Shirley  Dandridge,  really  galloping  down  an 
open  road  at  midnight  —  because  of  the  hare- 
brained maunderings  of  a  half -mad  old  negro? 

The  great  iron  gate  of  Damory  Court  hung  open, 
and  scarcely  slackening  her  pace,  she  rode  through 
and  up  the  long  drive.  The  glooming  house-front 
was  blank  and  silent  and  its  huge  porch  columns 
looked  like  lonely  gray  monoliths  in  the  wan  light. 
Not  a  twinkle  showed  at  chink  or  cranny ;  the  pon- 


426      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

derous  shutters  were  closed.  There  was  a  sense 
of  desertion,  of  emptiness  about  the  place  that 
brought  her  heart  into  her  throat  with  a  sickly  hor- 
rible feeling  of  certainty. 

She  jumped  down  from  the  blowing  horse  and 
hurried  around  the  house.  The  door  of  the  kitch- 
ens was  open  and  a  ladder  of  dim  reddish  light  fell 
from  it  across  the  grass.  She  ran  swiftly  and 
looked  in.  A  huddled  figure  sat  there,  rocking  to 
and  fro  in  the  lamplight. 

"  Aunt  Daph,"  she  called,  "  what  is  the  matter?  " 
The  turbaned  head  turned  sharply  toward  her. 
"  Dat  yo',  Miss  Shirley  ? "  the  old  woman  said 
huskily.  "Is  yo'  come  ter  see  Mars'  John  'fo'  he 
gwine  away?  YoJ  too  late,  honey,  too  late!  He 
done  gone  ter  de  deepo  fo'  ter  ketch  de  th'oo  train. 
En,  oh,  honey,  Ah  knows  in  mah  ole  ha'at  dat  Mars' 
John  ain'  nevah  gwine  come  back  ter  Dam'ry  Co'ot 
no  mo' ! " 


CHAPTER  XL VIII 

THE   SONG  OF   THE   NIGHTINGALE 

ALONG  the  dark  turnpike  John  Valiant  rode 
with  his  chin  sunk  on  his  breast.  He  was 
wretchedly  glad  of  the  darkness,  for  it  covered  a 
thousand  familiar  sights  he  had  grown  to  love.  Yet 
through  the  dark  came  drifting  sounds  that  caught 
at  him  with  clutching  hands  —  the  bay  of  a  hound 
from  some  far-off  kennel,  the  whirring  note  of 
frogs,  the  impatient  high  whinny  of  a  horse  across 
pasture-bars  — •  and  his  nostrils  widened  to  the  wild 
braided  fragrance  of  the  fields  over  which  the  mist 
was  spinning  its  fairy  carded  wool. 

The  preparations  for  his  going  had  been  quickly 
made.  He  was  leaving  behind  him  all  but  a  single 
portmanteau.  Uncle  Jefferson  had  already  taken 
this  — •  with  Chum  —  to  the  station.  The  old  man 
had  now  gone  sorrowfully  afoot  to  the  blockhouse, 
a  half-mile  up  the  track,  to  bespeak  the  stopping  of 
the  express.  He  would  go  back  on  the  horse  his 
master  was  riding. 

The  lonely  little  depot  flanked  a  siding  beside 
a  dismal  stretch  of  yellow  clay-bank  gouged  by 
rains.  Its  windows  were  dark  and  the  weather- 

427 


428      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

beaten  plank  platform  was  illuminated  by  a  single 
lantern  that  hung  on  a  nail  beside  the  locked  door, 
its  sickly  flame  showing  bruise-like  through  smoky 
streakings  of  lamp-black.  At  one  side,  in  the 
shadow,  was  his  bag,  and  beside  it  the  tethered  bull- 
dog—  sole  spot  of  white  against  the  melancholy 
forlornness  —  lying  with  one  splinted  leg,  like  a 
swaddled  ramrod,  sticking  straight  out  before  him. 

In  the  saddle,  Valiant  struck  his  hand  hard  against 
his  knee.  Surely  it  was  a  dream !  It  could  not  be 
that  he  was  leaving  Virginia,  leaving  Damory  Court, 
leaving  her!  But  he  knew  that  it  was  not  a  dream. 

Far  away,  rounding  Powhattan  Mountain,  he 
heard  the  long-drawn  hoot  of  the  coming  train, 
flinging  its  sky-warning  in  a  host  of  scampering 
echoes.  Among  them  mixed  another  sound  far  up 
the  desolate  road,  coming  nearer  —  the  sound  of  a 
horse,  galloping  fast  and  hard. 

His  own  fidgeted,  flung  up  wide  nostrils  and 
neighed  shrilly.  Who  was  coming  along  that  run- 
nelled  highway  at  such  an  hour  in  such  breakneck 
fashion  ? 

The  train  was  nearer  now ;  he  could  hear  its  low 
rumbling  hum,  rising  to  a  roar,  and  the  click  and 
spring  of  the  rails.  But  though  he  lifted  a  foot 
from  the  stirrup,  he  did  not  dismount.  Something 
in  the  whirlwind  speed  of  that  coming  caught  and 
held  him  motionless.  He  had  a  sudden  curious  feel- 
ing that  all  the  world  beside  did  not  exist;  there 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  NIGHTINGALE      429 

were  only  the  sweeping  rush  of  the  nearing  train  — 
impersonal,  unhuman  —  he,  sitting  his  horse  in  the 
gloom,  and  that  unknown  rider  whose  anguish  of 
speed  outstripped  the  steam,  riding  —  to  whom? 

The  road  skirted  the  track  as  it  neared  the  sta- 
tion, and  all  at  once  a  white  glare  from  the  opened 
fire-box  flung  itself  blindingly  across  the  dark, 
illuminating  like  a  flare  of  summer  lightning  the 
patch  of  highway  and  the  rider.  Valiant,  staring, 
had  an  instant's  vision  of  a  streaming  cloak,  of  a 
girl's  face,  set  in  a  tawny  swirl  of  loosened  hair. 
With  a  cry  that  was  lost  in  the  shriek  of  escaping 
steam,  he  dragged  his  plunging  horse  around  and 
the  white  blaze  swept  him  also,  as  the  rider  pulled 
down  at  his  side. 

"  You !  "  he  cried.  He  leaned  and  caught  the 
slim  hands  gripped  on  the  bridle,  shaking  now. 
"You!" 

The  dazzling  brightness  had  gone  by,  and  the  air 
was  full  of  the  groaning  of  the  brakes  as  the  long 
line  of  darkened  sleepers  shuddered  to  its  enforced 
stop.  "  John !  " —  He  heard  the  sweet  wild  cry 
pierce  through  the  jumble  of  noises,  and  something 
in  it  set  his  blood  running  molten  through  his  veins. 
It  held  an  agony  of  relief,  of  shame  and  of  appeal. 
"John  .  .  .  John!" 

And  knowing  suddenly,  though  not  how  or  why, 
that  all  barriers  were  swept  away,  his  arms  went 
out  and  around  her,  and  in  the  shadow  of  the  lonely 


430       THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

little  station,  they  two,  in  their  saddles,  clung  and 
swayed  together  with  clasping  hands  and  broken 
words,  while  the  train,  breathing  heavily  for  a  re- 
sentful second,  shrieked  itself  away  into  the  night, 
and  left  only  the  fragrance  from  the  misty  fields, 
the  crowding  silence  and  the  sprinkling  stars. 

The  breeze  had  risen  and  was  blowing  the  mist 
away  as  they  went  back  along  the  road.  A  faint 
light  was  lifting,  forerunner  of  the  moon.  They 
rode  side  by  side,  and  to  the  slow  gait  of  the  horses, 
touching  noses  in  low  whinnyings  of  equine  com- 
radeship, by  the  faint  glamour  they  gazed  into  each 
other's  faces.  The  adorable  tweedy  roughness  of 
his  shoulder  thrilled  her  cheek. 

".  .  .  And  you  were  going  away.  Yes,  yes,  I 
know.  It  was  my  fault.  I  ...  misunderstood. 
Forgive  me !  " 

He  kissed  her  hand.  "  As  if  there  were  anything 
to  forgive !  Do  you  remember  in  the  woods,  sweet- 
heart, the  day  it  rained  ?  What  a  brute  I  was  — 
to  fight  so !  And  all  the  time  I  wanted  to  take  you 
in  my  arms  like  a  little  hurt  child.  .  .  ." 

She  turned  toward  him.  "  Oh,  I  wanted  you  to 
fight!  Even  though  it  was  no  use.  I  had  given 
up,  but  your  strength  comforted  me.  To  have  you 
surrender,  too — ' 

"  It  was  your  face  in  the  churchyard,"  he  told 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  NIGHTINGALE     431 

her.  "  How  pale  and  worn  you  looked !  It  came 
to  me  then  for  the  first  time  how  horribly  selfish 
it  would  be  to  stay  —  how  much  easier  going  would 
make  it  for  you." 

".  .  .  And  to  think  that  it  was  Mad  Anthony  — • 
Did  the  clock  really  strike  thirteen,  do  you  think? 
Or  did  I  fancy  it?" 

"  Why  question  it  ?  "  he  said.  "  I  believe  in  mys- 
teries. The  greatest  mystery  of  all  is  that  you 
should  love  me.  I  doubt  no  miracle  hereafter. 
Dearest,  dearest ! " 

At  the  entrance  of  the  cherry  lane,  he  fastened 
his  horse  to  the  hedge,  and  noiselessly  let  down  the 
pasture-bars  for  her  golden  chestnut.  When  he 
came  back  to  where  she  stood  waiting  on  the  edge 
of  the  lawn,  the  late  moon,  golden- vestured,  was 
just  showing  above  the  rim  of  the  hills,  painting 
the  deep  soft  blueness  of  the  Virginian  night  with 
a  translucence  as  pure  as  prayer.  Above  the  fallen 
hood  of  her  cloak  her  hair  shone  like  a  nimbus,  and 
the.  loveliness  of  her  face  made  him  catch  his 
breath  for  the  wonder  fulness  of  it. 

As  they  stood  heavened  in  each  other's  arms, 
heart  beating  against  heart,  and  the  whole  world 
throbbing  to  joy,  the  nightingale  beyond  the  arbors 
began  to  bubble  and  thrill  its  unimaginable  melody. 
It  came  to  them  like  the  voice  of  the  magical  rose- 


432      THE  VALIANTS  OF  VIRGINIA 

scented  night  itself,  set  to  the  wordless  music  of  the 
silver  leaves.  It  rose  and  swelled  exultant  to  break 
and  die  in  a  cascade  of  golden  notes. 

But  in  their  hearts  was  the  song  that  is  fadeless, 
immortal. 


THE  END 


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Woman  Haters,  The.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Woman  in  Question,  The.    By  John  Reed  Scott. 

Woman  in  the  Alcove,  The.    By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

Yellow  Circle,  The.     By  Charles  E.  Walk. 

Yellow   Letter,  The.     By  William  Johnston. 

Younger  Set,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 


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